Deceitful Contingency
by Chubs34
Summary: One of the many Enclave contingencies is to find a Vault and radio on a heavily encrypted channel to regroup the forces. How it is accomplished doesn't matter. But it takes a resourceful soldier to pull it off. Sequel to Broken Hearts of Steel.
1. Prolouge

I do not own Fallout by any means. All I own are Al Sorenson, Hollow, Harkin, and other named chars.

O

A fiendish powered armored soldier dashed to his terminal. It had begun to sound off an alarm that it had recieved a message of unfathomable importance. He recognized this tune. IT was a message from the President himself!

He kyed the computer's password in, and tried to skip through the WELCOME sequence of these terminals. The message, being so important, was front and center.

**URGENT MESSAGE FROM: ENCLAVE HIGH COMMAND USERNAME: PRESIDENT JOHN HENRY EDEN VERIFICAION CODE: WH934PL45NF62**

**VERIFYING...**

**...**

**CODE ACCEPTED**

**RECEIVE MESSAGE? Y/N?**

Y

**RECIEVING MESSAGE**

**DE-ENCRYPTING...**

**DE-ENCRYPTION KEY:**

23FG6J709KMF

**PROCESSING...COMPLETE**

My fellow soldiers of America, this is your commander-in-chief, John Henry Eden speaking.

This message was to be sent under top encryptions at the time of Raven Rock's destruction. As this event has passed, I am no longer living, and unfit to lead. I am activating Contingency routine A-56. Delete this message as soon as memorized.

God Bless the Enclave.

God Bless America.

**END OF MESSAGE**

**DELETE? Y/N?**

Y

**MESSAGE DELETED**

He pulled the chair he was bending over out and slumped into it. A-56. IT had come to this.


	2. Closest to Home Hits the Hardest

Chubs34 here. Hi. This is answering that burning question we've all had. "What's up with Amata and the Enclave guy?" Well, this si what's up. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN FALLOUT, IF I DID, I WOULD MAKE IT SO YOU COULD HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH CHARACHTERS IN-GAME. *Cough SARAH cough*  
>Songs:<p>

O

A heavy boot stepped into the Oversser's office. Amata didn't turn away from her terminal, containing dossiers on every Vault resident. She knew who it was, and smiled in anticipation. She felt a strong, gentle hand on her shoulder. It was heavy, but not enough to hurt. The warmth coming from it made her sigh in pleasure.

"Hello, Amata." He said in a smooth voice that landed in her ears like silk. She loved it when he said things that way. "Feeling well?"

"Yes." She whispered, almost breathed the word.

"What are you working on?" Her lover said. "Maybe..." he began to rub her shoulder a little, and said coyly, "I could prove to be of use."

She smiled, enjoying his rough hand, and closed her eyes, her fingers stopping. He knew she was considering it. "No. I think I have it covered." She said innocently, playing that she thought he actually meant to help her.

"Should I take my leave then?" He asked. He lifted his hand up a quater inch. Her hand shot up adn stopped him.

"No..." she said, lowering his onto her shoulder again, and gently stoked the top of his hand. "You can stay. I might need you." She looked over her shoulder, turning her chair a bit. Her hazel eyes met her love's brown. He smiled warmly and seductively at her. She stood up and hugged her childhood friend tightly. "Why are you wearing that old thing?" She said, pulling away to see his sage, damaged armor.

This armor had seen alot of punishment. Bullet indentations and laser burns, flame burns, plasma burns. Places that looked like it'd been cut or blocked a hit with some blunt object. Some of the paint had been worn away by winds, some had been bleach by the sun. The fabric was soft after too much wear, almost thin in some places. The pieces didn't even look like the original, had to be replaced.

"You know you like it." He responded.

"Didn't you wear it when you were with that blonde?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I was sure you liked her more than me!"

"What?" He laughed. "No! You know I don't like dumb blondes. She was my commanding officer." He told her and kissed the nape of her neck. His hands slowly trailed down to her waist. She moaned softly as she thought about doing the deed on her desk...

He wasn't really giving her a choice. He lifted her and placed her on the desk, pulling her legs up, and she locked them on his back. There wasn't much between them. Though...

That could change very quickly.

Amata pressed Al closer to her, wanting his warmth. God did she want it. And Al would gladly give it. He chose her over that dumb blonde, whatver her name was. She didn't matter anymore. It was just Al and Amata. Together...

Forever...until her Pip-Boy beebed loudly, ruining her dream.

She awoke under the covers, lonely and sad. Her bed was so cold. She remembered the times when they were teens, and they would just lie together and talk. If Al was a bit of a smart-ass, he made up for it by being a complete romantic. She smiled, and just as soon as it came, it went, leaving her even more sad. Why did he choose Sarah? What did she have that she didn't? She and him had a history, for Christ's sake! Sarah...she was just...Amata didn't even know.

"Miss Almovodar?" Harkin asked, peeking in. "Are you awake?"

"Yes..."

"Ah. That dream again?" He asked. The Enclave soldier really didn't care. Anything for revenge agaisnt the Lone Wanderer for destroying his home, his family. If he had to deal with a Vault girl and her crushes, so be it.

"Yes..." Harkin sat beside her on her bed, and placed a false-caring hand on her.

"I heard he was going to the Pitt. Then we can put our plan into effect."

"But why can't we just...you know, reason with him?" She aksed, tears forming in her eyes.

"Al Sorenson took down a heavily defended base by himself. And another base with his Mutant friend." This wasn't a lie. The Enclave got reports of him decimating Fort Bannister by himself, and the Enclave Crawler with his Super Mutant.

"But if we do...he'll hate us..."

"Once he sees how my friends make this place so much better, and how it's all because of you, he'll beg for forgiveness!" He lied. He'd beg for mercy at the end of Harlin's pistol. None would come. It didn't come to his squad.

That made sense to Amata. Al wanted to change the world...maybe he'd love her again. She sat up. "What do we need to do, Harkin?"

He smiled as all the dominoes fell into place.

A/N

Alright, the Title's up to you! Please review and give me your best idea!


	3. Just Not My Day

Alright. Finally got the Enclave guy a name, and him a purpose. Let's go. This is gonna be from Al's POV. It's kinda gonna be wierd, but cool. Just go with it.

O

I slowly, solemnly stepped out of the railway tunnel. Bad news, you know? I had to shield my eyes from the glare. Damn...never realized how much I miss the sun. As the saying goes: Don't miss it till it's a red sky, right? Or something like that. But I had to make sure the Pitt was working. That Ashur and his raiders didn't pour out and slaughter everyone. Despite what the "Lord of the Pitt" said 'bout not needing more workers doesn't sound right by me. The slaves -oh damn, did I just call them that?- would still fight.

There wouldn't be enough workers left to run the Mill. And then...back to slaving.

Thankfully, I had crippled Paradise Falls. The only slavers left would be ones who weren't present when I'd blown it up. And with such a short supply of slaves, they'd get no business. Raiders would pick the place apart, maybe wastelanders would get there first. Or maybe, by some hopeful chance, the Brotherhood could fortify it. I broguth a smile for about half a second before it faded. My brothers couldn't. They were stretched to thin.

So I'd probably still have to check up on it from time to time. Paradise Falls. It gives me a place to sleep if necessary. But what about Ashur? I could probably set up some mines in the railway system, rig them to a remote detonator...blow up the pass if something went wrong. A few stragg-...what was that?

I froze in his step, turned toward the nosie, squinting. Scanned the rock, the rubble beside it...was that...no. Nothing. Trained all my senses to pick up anything. No room for chances. None at all. I don't remember my hand moving caustiously toward my revolver, but that's were I felt it. It was the only weapon I could pull out fast enough. I am not dying. Not after all I've worked for, goddamnit.

You know...now that I think about it...maybe I'm just paranoid. The Pitt can do that to people, right? And a plasma rifle can turn a man into a puddle of goo.

And that's exactly what Enclave hit squads use.

Me, the Sheriff of the Capitol Wasteland rolled skillfully out of the way, dodging the bolt of superheated gas by a longshot, right into the concrete wall of the Pitt entrance. Slammed myself roughly against it as another bolt came and splattered against the opposite wall. I was pinned down, .44 raised in both hands. I needed a cold, hard tactical assesment of the situation. I managed to poke my head out about four maybe six inches, and managed to catch them all. One, two, three, fou-

I cursed to himself, having to slam back against the concrete to avoid a more than warm welcome home. There had to be five. I switched my .44 to my natural left and and with the free cybertronic one, wrenched free a small silver cylinder. A pulse grenade. Do the same physics applied to power armor as it does to robots? Damn hope so.

In a split second, I tossed the grenade and hit the wall again. FUCK! These guys had crackerjack timing! Or maybe this just wasn't my day. I don't know, nor care. I just know that's something's wrong here. Don't ask me how I know, I just do.

Let's just hope I got the angle right. And...presto. Two down. They screamed as their power armor fried them alive. Couldn't help but smile a bit. I know, sadistic, but hey. Robo-hand kinda asks for it.

That leaves three left. I can probably get in a shot. Just gotta get in a better position. See that wall over ther? Just opposite of me? That's where I'm headed. I'm not saying us, 'cause you're not helping. One three...damn, actually thinking as if you are with me. Just gotta run, tuck and roll.

I push off agains tthe wall, using the momentum I pick up. A few bolts soar toward me, but I jump over one. The other just grazes my shoulder. Good thing wearing combat armor, right? That'd hurt like hell...but then again, the pain wouldn't exist...sorry, athiest joke. Couldn't resist.

Grunt a bit as I hit the wall hard. Somewhere in all that I pulled out my AR. Scary thing is if you're not used to it is that you sometimes don't remember switching. Just naturally. Damn. Only three years out of the vault, and it's second nature...

No time now. Later. At least I'm at a better angle. Don't have to move out of cover too much. Maybe can get off some rounds. Last I checked, grunt number two was...right in my sights. A quick couple of rat-a-ata's and he's gone. Enclave armor. It's strong, but not if you know where the weak points are.

Two left. They're really revving it up now. Trying to make up the firepower for their friends. They'll reload in...now! Charge! Break off the wall after changing mags, roll to confuse them, land crouched. Pull the tirgger. Hold...dead. Other's done reloading. Jump up, sprint towards the bastard. Unload the rest. Between the horns. Done.

I stop, panting. I look around. Five dead. Smile. Efficient. I stand up straight at 6'6, reholster my AR. I'll reload later. Now let's get to this little hideout I have up near the Deathcla-

I never finish that thought. Not before cloaked man with (of all things) a lead pipe knocks me over the head. As I crumple to the ground on my knees, I mutter "Cheap shot". And fall onto my side. Harkin de-cloacks and pokes me with his foot. And smiles like a real prick. Proud of his "Handiwork". Douche.

"He's not dead, is he?" Amata pipes up from behind a rock she was hdidng behind. She pokes her dark-haired head out and looks cautiously.

"Course not." Harkin reassures her. "Just out cold. Now, let's get this dead weight to Ms. Ananda."

"It's Al. Not dead weight." She says sternly. Harkin sighs to himself. When will this little bitch stop with her...well, bitching?

"FIne, fine. Let's just go before someone sees us." Harkin then walts over to my body and begins to drag me to the Vertibird landed, pilot wating to head to Paradise Falls, soon to be the Lone Wanderer's prison while they take over DC.

Like I said earlier. Just not my damn day.


	4. May the Games Begin

Hey guys. Birthday was a few days ago, so I'm plling an all-nighter to get this done. Maybe even two chapters. Let's hope for the best.

O

I could feel the sand beneath me legs as the Enclave soldeirs dragged me. Wait...sand? Shouldn't my armor...by God...they've stripped me down. Only thing they left was my underwear and my Pip-Boy. Shit. Where are they gonna take my stuff then? I need my hat and pistol...FUCK! That's not important! I can barely concentrate...

I'm drifitng in and out of consciousness. I can feel my head lolling around. I can barely move. My head hurts too. Damn that son of a bitch...fuckin' cheap shots. They're talking... OH! PAIN! Lots of pain! I can kinda see now, though. They've hauled e upright. Are these guys Enclave? They're not wearing their armor...who's this bitch? I must have a concussion. Everything I hear is muffled. Like shellshock.

"He's a wild one." O A male voice says. Or I think it's male. The woman's not talking...no...her lips are moving...something about...fuck, I don't know. Her accent is strange. Almost sounds...Russian. Or I think.

"My methods are proven...and time agai-...This one...be no different, be assured...-tlemen." She said confidently.

"We found him...in a Vault, out near Old Olney. Eating...-orpses he killed with hi-...-are hands." The same man said. No...they're framing me or something...I hope I can find out what the Hell all this is...no...it's Paradise Falls. I can tell. I worked here once.

I've helped people escape out of here. I'm about as good as a Pre-War Spec Ops agent when it comes to hiding. As long as I put my mind to it. But I will escape. I need to know who this guy is. WHo's talking. Maybe he's the one who clonked me back at the tunnel...

FUCKING...hurts too bad when I try to move my head. Gotta find another...

Blacked out again. Must've. I'm on the ground. Concrete. I'll feel it later. My feet'll hurt like hell too. Did they drop me...or maybe I was holding myslef up with them...I don't-

I'm forced to grunt in absolute, mind wrneching pain as I'm roughy hoisted up to eye level. It's the guy talking in the first place. Yeah. This is the guy who took me out. I can see it in his eyes. Our are locked. I'm burning his face into my mind. If I get out..._when_ I get out...this man will die.

Feels like eternity our eyes are locked. He looks like me. No goatee though. We could almost be twins. Weird. But we lock. He can tell I'm not just delierious. He knows damn well that I'm memorizing his face. My eyes burn into his, and he pulls a look of the same intensity. I can feel the nervousness of the disguised Enclave. THey can feel the utter...sheer...unrelenting...undying...merciless...unwavering...endless HATRED emanting from the daggers we're trying to plunge into each other's eyes.

He breaks first, pushing me back to my captors.

"See? Already tried to escape. He said with a smirk. I breathed deeply, trying not to falter to blackness with pain.

"Sir, we should get going. We have other engagements." The one on my right says.

She looks at him odd. "'Sir?'" And looks at my enemy.

"I run a tight ship, Ms. Ananda. As do you?"

"Of course. Without a sturdy chain of command, we would be animals, Mr. Harkin."

Harkin...that's his name. It'll be the last thing he hears as I rip his heart of with my cyber hand that his ascociates "Gifted" me with. I must admit, it's come in handy in some cases. This will be one of those many.

"Hmm." She pondered. "Fine. I hope we'll have a chance to talk later."

Harkin began to walk away, but faked looking like he just remembered something. He motioned forlornly to one of his men. The man walked over and handed his commander a parsel near and dear to my heart. My Sheriff's Hat. I think I see what they're going to do now.

"We...we found this in Vault 97. Where we foud him. He killed the Lone Wanderer." Mrs. Ananda was completely shocked, hands over her mouth, eyes wide in fear. Apparently, my legends spread fast. This one look lasted for a few seconds. Then it switched to loathing. She looked toward me. That's all I can recall. I sorta blacked out.

In hindsight...it proabably looked like I fainted at her glance. Damn it.

O

Gob and Nova were chatting in the quiet bar. After Moriarty's suicide out of fear for my wrath, Gob took it over. The tawny red-haired woman leaned over the counter, smiling and looking the Ghoul, rubbing glasses clean. OR as clean as he could get them.

"So Gob...got any plans tonight?" She joked.

"Yeah, figured I'd put a couple drinks in some gal, knock her out and have my way with her." He responded kiddingly, trying to mimic what I'd say. And the smile I'd have.

"I think Al's rubbing off on you."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. But he'd say something stupider. Like...'Course! I was gonna spike Harden's water, you know? Play a little game of Catholic Priest and Choir Boy.'" Gob placed a hand on the counter, near the register, covered his milky eyes with his other hand, still holding the glass.

He laughed: "Ha! Yeah, I can imagine him saying somehting like that!" They both burst into laughter. Nova could barely hold a straight face through her joke. Once they'd calmed down and sighed, they sort of smiled at one another. Gob, after years of pressure from myself and his own curiousity, simply had to ask.

"Nova...I heard what you said to Al when he asked you if you'd ever...you know..."

"Gob, I said that to him because he was a stranger. Just some kid. Would you tell a secret to a stranger?"

"No...but wait...then...you _do_ like me?"

"Yeah. I guess I do." She said simply. She placed her hand on Gob's, sharing her warmth with him. A few seconds later, Jericho burst in, frantic. Scared.

Jericho was scared of nothing. Not even me when I'm wrathful. "RADIO! NOW!"

Gob asked back: "What's going on?"

Jericho simply repeated his demand, even running to the radio himself to turn it on. The volume was low. Jericho quickly fixed that.

Three Dog came on the radio, melancholy laced his normally upbeat tone. "-ot some bad news. I don't know how someone did this...but...shit, Al's dead! I dont't know either! And don't think "Oh, Ol' Three Dog's just playing a joke on us, I'm really not! I have his hat right here! This..."

"Mrs. Ananda, Mr. THree Dog."

"Right, she brought it in, said some guys found some physco eating him." Three Dog couldn't continue. I'm his best friend. Losing me...it's gotta hit close to home. And the shit closest to home hit hardest. He simply started sobbing. Mrs. Ananda took over.

"Hello, people of the Capitol Waseland. I am Mrs. Ananda. My assosciates and I are going to try and have some semblance of peace here. We are occupying and fortifying the previously slave-camp Paradise Falls. We are turning it into a rehabilitation center. The Lone Wanderer was a good man. The best that any of us could hope to be. But now that he's gone, we must try to keep as many poeple alive as possible. We will take in any raider one can capture, teach them to function in normal society, and set them to gaurd towns. Not to worry. The peace times will not stop. because of a legend's death. I would not bo able to fix these people if it were not for Mr. Sorenson. Please, we need more volunteers. Come to Paradise Falls if you wish to make a difference. Thank you for your time."

O

I woke up very pleasently, in fact. See, a kick in the chest in the Wasteland is the equivalant of a breakfest in bed in Pre-War times. I grunted in pain, my head smashing against the floor. Hard.

"What's the matter, wild guy? Can't take a hit?"

"Naw...you try having your skull lumped in by a lead pipe, then get tripped to the ground. It's nothing really." Hey, laugh in the face of danger as I always say.

"A wise guy huh?" He sneered as he lifted me back up by the collar of the rags they had me in. He sat me back down, and punched me in the gut. I doubled over in my seat, groaned. Hey, I'm still injured from the drag here. This doesn't help.

"Done yapping?"

I said nothing. He took it as a yes.

"You're a bad person. You know? Killing the Lone Wanderer. That's why we're not putting you through normal rehabilitation. We're going to break every little bit of your will power down to dust, and then we'll rebuild it into something useful. Maybe you can redeem yourself in God's eyes."

I had to pipe up. In retrospect...a bad idea. But a good crack at him. "I don't beleive in that nonsense."

"I do. My God hates you."

"Oh yeah? Well my imaginary friend hates you too!" I laughed. Cackled more. And it really helped shield me from the pain of his next hit. Thanks humor! Still chuckling as he sat me back up. Tied to a chair, it was next to impossible to get up. And it's much easier to hit me this way.

He pulled a knife from his hip, showed me the edge. Now, when you're me, behind the humor, you're planning every next move to the damn letter. Now, I think I can knock this guy out and cut myself out of these ropes. I simply have to kick his shin, force him to drop the knife with a headbutt, which is proabably not the best idea, and get myself free.

He leans in. I can feel his breath on me. People tell me I have a death-glare. If I just randomly switch to it, people just...freeze up. Sarah tells me that I'm doing it when I don't even realize. Oh God, Sarah...I have to escape! I HAVE TO!

I head butt him, and the knife lands on my lap. I kick his shin, and he rears back, falling over, a solid thud as he lands. He looks toward me, fear, shocked, and in pain. I simply glare and kick him into sleep.I move just so that I can grab the knife.

Take me five minutes of sawing and my wrist hurts like hell. My right was useless. Facing down. But, I finally free myself. I check the guy's body. A key, some cases, a few caps, and his clothes. I don't take any, but the key. I keep most of my caps at home, only carrying two-fifty at a time. I have other armors, so I'll be fine. I can just find my gear later. I unlock the door, and crouch down. My eyes have already adjusted, so I scan for guards. None too many. Most are tired from the fortifications they had to build. This should be easy.

I slowly skulk through the many shadows, watching my step like a hawk. Both for debris, and for my saftey. No shoes, boots, nothing. I can't go throuhg the gate. It creaks like the Tinman before Dorothy oils him, and it was definetly guarded. I carefully climb over the wall, shimmying my way to the exit. I smile. I'm going to make it! Ha! Too easy!

At least until I saw the little red dot on my hip. I followed the laser'd trail to find Mrs. Ananda aiming from the hip at me. Didn't matter. At this range, she couldn't miss a barn door.

"And what is this? Trying to escape so soon? I think not."

"I was just taking a walk." I replied coyly. "I promise I'd be back by bedtime."

"This isn't some Canadian prison. This is my center for healing." She stated.

"And I'm healthy. Good work, doctor, you're a miracle worker!"

She almsot chuckled at this. "Funny. Maybe while you were eating the comedic Lone Wanderer, his humor rubbed off on you."

"Yes. It's like the two cannibals who were eating a clown. It tasted funny to them."

She shook her head, smiling. It's time to go back to your cell. i turst you killed the gaurd?"

"Nope. Just taking a nap."

"Hmm. Maybe breaking you will be easier than I thought."

"Maybe escaping will be easier than this." I said.

"Then I look forward to our duels of wit."

"Same."

"Gaurds!" She yelled, and several men tackled me, and hauled me back to the room.

"May the games begin." Mrs. Ananda mused to herself, walking toward her quarters.


	5. Free Will is A: Not good or B: Good?

Sorry it took ao damn long. Busy as hell.

O

I open my eyes to pain.

Pain. Nothing but it, filling every muscle of my body. Every corner is nothing but pain. It hurts to try and move, even to try and get more comfortable. Which is impossible, given the small space I'm in. It even hurts to open my eyes. Shit! Not like it'd even help. Too dark. I blink, poke myself, rub them to make sure thye're open. There's no light in here.

"Course...Pip-Boy..." I muttered out loud. I didn't need to. I simply needed something to break the droning, nerve-wracking silence. I reacher over to my left arm and felt cloth. I felt the outline of the adveanced wristwatch, and I knew exactly whre the button was for the high-lights. I pressed down, and suprise, no pain. But I wouldn't feel it from my right hand. You know the reasons why. But after the longest three seconds passed, nothing. They covered up my Pip-Boy with something. Somehting thick. I can't see the light when I turn it on.

I let my arm fall to my side. It pained me to do so, and I couldn't help but groan. THey beat me harshly, without and remorse. From the daze I was in, I could only tell so much of what they were saying. But from what it sounded like, that Enclave guy's pegged me as a savage, who killed me and took my Pip-Boy. And ate my remains. All they could find was my hat. So there's little chance I'm escaping from this hell.

I try moving anything. Toes, fingers, my head, but it's all damaged. They didn't want me dead. Just to teach a lesson.

O

Amata stormed into Harkin's office. Essentially, it was _her_ office, but he commandeered it. He had a certain sway with the young girl. But now she was on a warpath.

"Harkin!" She yelled, small hands balle into fists, her eyes burining.

Harkin looked up at he innocently from some paperwork. As if he was a child faslely accused of stealing a cookie.

"Yes, Ms. Almodovar? You seem upset?"

Her face reddened further. "Don't BS me! You know damn well what's going on!"

"No, I don't believe I do. Could you bring a specific complaint to my attention?"

She shuddered in fury, seethed hate. She nearly started cursing him to the end of time, but just managed to control herself.

"The Vault Citizens are saying that your soldiers are treating them badly!"

"Are they?" He said, in mock disbelief. Well, someone like me could pick up his light sarcasm, but Amata is a different story. "I informed them to try and not be a burden on your Citizes! This just won't do!"

"DAMN RIGHT!" She hissed, slamming a fist on the table. "I have a better grip on my people than you, a commanding officer, has on his own troops! This is _my _Vault, I make the rules."

Harkin knew better than to play into this trap. He'd spent many years taking spittle from his higher-ups. "Of course. I'll see to it personally that these maliceful behaviors are ended."

"Good!" She stormed out, still fuming. Harkin could pick up a few words about how much of an asshole the Enclave is turning out to be. But it didn't matter. Not at all. He just had to keep her happy long enough to get the self destruct code. Or whatever could render the Vault uninhabitable. Once he did, to Hell with her petty concerns. But if she did figure out that Harkin cared more about the Vault then humanity, she'd turn it against him.

He made a note to himself. Once he's the leader, erase every plan previously in place. These were too complex. So many things could go wrong. If it was simple, then it was more likely to succeed. But he did have to admit. Everything was going according to plan. The Lone Wanderer was out of the picture for God knows how long. They have a Vault. And it's well out of the spotlight with the Brotherhood of Steel.

As long as Mrs. Ananda could keep Al in a cage, everything would come to fruition eventually..

O

After a few minutes...or hours...or...God, I can't even tell...the door flew open. It's day time. Light flooded inward, taking evry little corner it had been denied. Including my eyes, adjusted to the darkness. It hurt, burned, seared. It was unbearable. But a form moved in the way. I almost thanked it, until I remembered who it was.

"Wakey, wakey, Psycho." My captor taunted me, mock smiles an mocking tones. I heard their -there were two- boots clank into the 3x8 cylinder I was housed in, hauling me up roughly and without care. I stumble as they lift me, and I sprawl across the hot sand and concrete. I probably scratch something. I can't feel it. The floor is scalding. The lift me again, escort me towards Eulogy's former Pad. Now: Mrs. Ananda's office.

A brief memory stirs. It feels so distant. But it seems so important. How long was this? Gunshots. Lasers. Screams. Fires. Exploding building. Exploding people. The stench of death. A massive figure. Yellow, with red streaks. A name just below my conscious. I know it, I know this! Frank...Ferris...Fawkes! That's it! Fawkes! My friend...and another man. Tall, clad in green, a tan, worn hat adorning his head.

Oh God. It's me. I didn't recognize myself.

And a third man. No...not a man. A shape. Invisibe, but just noticable to trained eyes. Massive. Bigger than the tal-...ME.

I can't go on with this. How far have I gone?

The two gaurds at the front door glance at the captors holding me, standing at attention. One of them looks down at me, the way a person does at an annoying pest. Distadteful, wishing it would just scurry along. They open the door, and a few moments before my eyes can readjust, I'm on my knees. I hear a familiar voice.

"How nice to see you." She crooned. I try to respond. And I tried hard. But all that I could muster was a dry croak, a shadow of the deep tones I was used to hearing from myself.

"Hmm. Not in the mood for chit-chat? Good. Neither am I." She kneels down, to my level, our faces a foot apart. A feel a gun barrel pressed against my head. No way would she get anywhere near the big bad wolf without it. "You know, I didn't want to have to do this. I thought the box would be enough. I was sadly mistaken."

Then she says seven words that contradict everything I believe in.

"Free will is not a good thing." I raise an eyebrow. "Number 34, respond."

"To?" I manage to croak. A stinging blow to my cheek.

"Respond."

"Free will is a good thing."

Rememebr that gun I was talking about? You do? Good. Cause that's not all the have. Police nightsticks. And a second after I responded, it was rapped sharply acrosss my skull.

"Free will is not a good thing."

I give the same answer. I get the same punishment.

She tries one last time. I tease her by dragging out the sentence. I get beaten even worse.

"I'm going to try one more time." She warns me. "Is free will good for you? Even with all these beatings?"

I smile. I know I failed at it, but the message was clear.

"Yep! Love it more than a can of Pork n' Beans!"

She motins for them not to strike me. Instead, she says:

"Back to the box Half rations for three weeks."


	6. A Hollow Funeral

Hey guys. Sorry it takes so long. Job-hunt and all.  
>This chapter is a personal one. My friend Hollowhead and I have been collaborating for months on a huge Fallout New Vegas story, and a small Fallout 3 fic. I dedicate this chapter to him. He's not dead. But one of his most interesting characthers is making his play.<p>

O

It hasn't been that long. I'm sure of it! I mean, come on, right? I can't sleep for days? And even if I am awake, I have nothing to do but wait. So I sleep some more. And plus, all the boredom, minus the torture, is making things seem dragged-out. So...it could never be that long. A week, at most.

Two weeks, max.

O

"Status report, soldeir." Harkin ordered. He had just had his coffee, and this poor Private could get reamed out for bringing bad news. See, this guy has a real rep going on. If you bring him good news, you're promoted. If you get the bad news...find out who've you've pissed off, and kiss ass to get out of bringing the news.

Chances are, you won't leave that room with your body intact.

But this Private was fine. It'd been nothing but smooth sailing since they canned me. Shoot, it was like old times. The locals rolling over to avoid being crushed, the Brotherhood ignoring or staying out of the way. Contingency A-56 was being executed magnificently. Every Enclave officer was made sure to memorize it.

Every Enclave bunker had regulations for a copy to be hung on every social meeting place. Cafeteria, barracks, most hallways, andything that saw heavy traffic. And no, wearing Power Armor didn't count as "Heavy Traffic".

**ENCLAVE HIGH COMMAND**

**GOD BLESS THE ENCLAVE**

**CONTINGECNY A-56**

**STEP 1-LOCATE AND CLEAR/RESTORE ANY FUNCTIONAL OR SEMI-FUNCTIONAL VAULT-TEC VAULT OF RESIDENTS. (CITIZENS, ANY HOSTILE CREATURE)**

**STEP 2-DISPOSE OF ANY MAJOR THREAT TO ENCLAVE AUTHORITY**

**S****TEP 3-SET VAULT-TEC LONG DISTANCE RADIO TO FREQUENCY 1135-19931 AND WAIT FOR ENCLAVE PERSONNEL TO RENDEVOUS**

**STEP 4-SET RADIO FREQUENCY TO 1292-51920-25 AND WAIT FOR ENCLAVE REINFORCEMENTS TO ARRIVE**

**STEP 5-FREE AMERICA OF MUTANTKIND**

It was everywhere. All soldiers were bored of it the time it was over being drilled into their heads. And the Enclave brass _did_ consider literally making an implant with all Enclave plans on it and attaching it to their troopers. Budget cuts from not having the Government cash cow restricted this.

"Sir, the Vault is under our control now. We are prepared to evict the natives. And for any complications they might present."

Harkin smiled. "Give me your name, soldier."

"Hank Erston, sir." Hank was a simple kind of guy. Never wanted to kill too many people, but was more or less brainwashed into the attitude that the Enclace treasures: Oh-since-you've-been-exposed-to-radiation-we're-gonna-kill-you.

So he was actually a nice person. He would hold the door for people if they weren't automatic. He always respected his superior officers and his brothers-in-arms.

"Good work, son. I'll keep you in mind when a promotion is in order."

Hank straightened ever so slightly in pride in his armor. "Thank you, sir." He beamed.

"No, thank you." Harkin told him, patting his shoulder. "Dismissed." Hank did a perfect about-face and marched out of the Overseer's office. Harkin sat down at his desk and smiled, a corner of his mouth open.

"If only I could evict them." He said to himself. Then sighed in exasperation. "But they'd just blow it up somehow. So I guess we have to use them. That latin girl...Amata...might be a good lay. Guess I could make use of that."

He chuckled to himself. "Yeah. Just gotta make them feel useful. Lone Wanderer already made them excited about the wastes. Should be easy enough."

O

It couldn't be so bad.

I mean, it's just a few words. "Free will isn't good." I whisper to myself. Or atleast I think I do. I hear a groaning, creaking, dry noise, but it could be the metal. The slick metal. Wait...slick?

I reach out to it, slide a finger off of it. I taste the residue.

Blood.

Now, you're probably asking, how the fuck do I know what blood tastes like? Well, I've been punched in the face before. And...there was another time too.

I can remember it like yesterday. This was back when I wore lether armor, used an hunting rifle. Talons bush-whacked me. Hit me bad. Inside a subway too. Ghouls'd pick up the blood. They got a nice shot on me too. Right in my hip. And my arm. I couldn't stand, I'd have to drag myself there. But I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten in a few days. Or longer. And I needed just a little more energy to drag myself. If I could just have a bite of food, I could do it. And then I looked back to the Talons. Maybe they had food on them.

I realized once I got over. They could _be_ food. I coudl eat them. Just a little, not gonna have too much. Maybe...maybe just the arm. And a bit of the leg too.

I fingered a drop of blood from their arm and tasted it. Coppery. Strange. But...and I regret this till my dying day...almost good.

I almost ate them. I really considered it. But in the end, through sheer power of will, and I mean it took everything my mind and body had to drag myself away from thier warm carcasses.

You know what's really scary though?

How my stomach rumbled when I thought of that just now.

O

"We are here today in memory of a great man. Star Paladin Al Sorenson." Elder Lyons began, tears welling in his eyes. I was the closest thing he had to a son. And in my time of need, he was my father.

This is my funeral.

Most of the people I know are here. Most all the Regulators. Every Brotherhood of Steel member. Agatha, the wonderful old lady who gave me my pistol. A whole lot of random wastelanders. A few people who looked like they could handle a gun. They were just reformed raiders. I spared them when they begged for mercy. I guess they took that as a sign from God or something. I don't care.

But the people I did care about were up at the plat form, above the Citadel Courtyard. Elder Lyons, leading the procession. Three Dog, who would take over if Elder Lyons couldn't do it. Fawkes, probably my best friend in the Wasteland. The Talon Company young man I spared, told him to go to the Regulators. Sonora Cruz, the leader of them. Reily, her team down in the crowd.

And Sarah. My Sarah. Sitting on the far end, looking at her feet. She was simply staring blankly. No tears. She couldn't beleive I was dead. It was such a shock to her. We just made up after Amata, a few weeks only. We didn't sleep with each other, at least not like that. But I wasn't dead. I wish I coudl tell her. But I can't.

So she's stuck at her love's funeral while he's still out there, fighting from his freedom just to tell her he loved her.

One last time. That's all I want. More importantly...it's all she wants.

"He was the best man to ever walk the Capitol Wasteland. Now, he returns to the sands which formed this brave soul. He was like a son to me. Even when his own passed away, he still endeavored for the greater good. I...I..." He broke off, tears choking his words. Three Dog stepped up behind him, placed both hands on his world-weary shoulders.

He led the older man to his seat and took the reighns.

"Now, listen. I knew Al as a friend. We've spent a damn lot of time. And he opened up to me. I know him better than most anyone. And let me clear any rumors right now that he was a cold S.O.B. 'Cause this guy was probably the warmest sucker this Wasteland can allow. He was the kinda guy who step on a Mole rat's foot, then give it a stimpack in apology."

"I've followed this lad's tale through thick and thin, beginning to end. Alpha to Omega. This guy, he's not some honest Joe. He's got more honor than a third of this crowd combined. And I know there have been a few rough spots from time to time, but just about all of what he did was for the good of everyone else. Do you know how much stuff he could have if he chose himself over the rest of us? Too much to imagine, that's how much.

"This son of a bitch has probably saved us all twice over. Maybe more. Who knows? I sure as Hell don't. But let me tell you something I do know. He's going to that good place, whatever you think it might be. Hell, he didn't beleive in one. But if there is, when we all pass on, he'll be right up there, greeting us in."

"He always said that you should be able to wake up in the morning and tell yourself you love yourself. As long as you like yourself, as long as you know you're doing the right thing, you're just damn fine. He made mistakes, sure, we all do. But he could still tell himself he was doing it for the Good Fight. And most of the time, it turned out for a mark to the Good Fight.

"Remember the Lone Wanderer as this: not a God, not a Master, but one more man just trying to survive."

O

Nothing.

Do...do you know what nothing is like?

No, really. As in, your senses are going crazy trying to find something. A smell, a sound, a sight, a feel just to have a constant? Because there's always some background noise in the Wasteland at night. An animal of some sorts, gunfire from Raiders or hunters, people talking, and the occasioanl lustful couple. But it's something. Something to break the void.

I've been tortured, starved, and almost driven to insanity by my own thoughts for...God, how long? Months? Days? Weeks?

But this is what's getting to me. The void.

I start to breathe harder, heavier. Just for something. It breaks the silence. But it's a strain. I don't like talking to myself. That's out. Breathing hard...I had to focus. I wanted some peace.

I guess the Void will have to do for a while.

O

Reilly stepped up to bat. She sighed into the mic, and it spread across the Citadel. She blushed only minorly. She didn't really expect something like this to happen. I mean, really. Everyone thinks I'll be fine. My skills will save me, or some miracle, accident, or I'll take cover at the nick of time, inject a stimpack, and wait it out.

No one thought they'd outlive me.

Hell, most people thought that in their last moments after taking a stray bullet that was meant for me, we'd have one last touching moment. For the men, honor and respect between brothers in arms. For the ladies...well, you can imagine.

"I've known Al for a few years. I met him when he brought back every member o my team back to me, alive no less. After blasting his way through an entire hotel of Muties, and God knows what else. He stayed back in the lobby to cover them. He shows up two days later, looking healthy as a baby. So I've seen what he can do. And if you're unsure that he's not one of the toughest men you could meet, he's been hunted by Talon Company since he was 20."

"I've personally fought beside him. He was probably the most merciful man I've met. Raider begs for mercy, Al walks off. Talon begs for mercy, Al walks off. And remember all that he's been through. Losing his dad, his birthright, his hand, I think he'd be ruthless when he wants to be. But he chooses not to. He's _chosen_ to save us all. And goddamn it if he hated it when we called him this, but he was our Messiah. The one who'd lead us into safety. The one who'd end all the troubles."

She was going to continue, and if I were present I'd kick her ass for reinforcing that thought into the Wasteland, but a heavy green hand stopped her. Fawkes. Thanks good buddy.

"I think Al wouldn't want people saying that about him. He didn't like it." Now, Fawkes is probably the perfect example of a gentle giant I've ever had the pleasure og knowing. But if he scowls, frowns, or V's his eyebrows, it's make a Deathclaw second guess the fight.

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry." She stepped back to her seat, embaressed for getting carried away. She looked at Sarah. My Sarah. She didn't return the look. She simply stared at her boots, mouth hanging in disbelief. By whatever God there is, if only I could tell her.

O

It's so fucking hot.

I mean, the sun bearing down on you is bad enough. But locked into a big, insulative, metal cylinder?

I'm drenched in my own sweat.

You cannot get this wet in the fucking ocean.

I hang my head low. I want to pass out so badly. The darkness tugs at the corners of my mind, trying desperately to lull me in. But I just can't, no matter how much I try. It's excruciating. Atleast the Void gave me some solace. Even if it was nearly infuriating how silent it was.

I cough twice. Just to get some moisture in my mouth. It works, sort of. Atleast it's something.

By God...will I just break already? It'd be so much easier.

But I know that that's death.

Everytime, every single second I refuse to break, it's life. It's wearing down my captors. It's wearing down the Enclave. Wearing them down so the kill is easier. I will crush their bones between my fingers.

I have to hate something.

Hating something will mean I live longer in this Hell.

Living longer means I may see my Sarah again. My beautiful, wonderful, Sarah. I feel a tear run down my cheek. I finally get why I won't break. Because if I break, I'll never see her again.

She's my spark of light in this Tartarus.

O

Fawkes laid his hands on the podium. He sweeped his massive head from side to side, taking the crowd in. He sighed heavily.

"Al...we met in Vault 87. Yes, _the_ Vault 87. I was smarter than the rest when I was made. I was different at least. So they threw me in a cell. For...I can't even begin to imagine how long...I started keeping track of the days, but it was pointless. I had but one thing keeping me sane. And I use that term lightly. A single computer, connected to the mainframe."

"I searched through everything. Any information I could find. It all intruiged me. Enveloped me. I got my own name from a man willing to die for what he believed in. And one day, a man in metal armor came to my window. He was bloodied, injured, and ready to kill. A vengeacne in is eyes. I told him I could help him obtain the G.E.C.K.."

"He left me for a moment. Though, it felt like forever, the view of freedom so close in my grasp. I heard the alarm sound. The door opened. I had to bang my head against the wall, make sure I was awake."

"I remember my first taste of the air outside of my cell. It was stale, murky, bloody. But by your God it had to be the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted. I remember my first breath. Air never felt to filling. When he finall rounded the corner, I embraced him, blathering about my joy. Then I remembered what I had to do."

"So I retrieved the G.E.C.K. for him. As he left, I heard an electrical sound. I charged, hoping to make sure my new friend was safe. He was gone. I followed the Vertibird outside, and all the way I ran to Raven Rock. As I got there, it was already exploding. I saw Al walkign out, holding his side. He was hurt, but alive."

"The one reason I think Al didn't go beserk was becasue there was always some beauty in the Wasteland. I remember when we walked back to Megaton, Al motioned for me to join him on a ridge. I lied with him, he handed me binoculars, pointed. It was a Deathclaw and her pups. She was feeding them, grooming them, playing with them. For Al, ist showed him that everything had some mercy to it. That's how he kept his."

Without another single word, Fawkes stepped back, turning. He didn't want a final word. He just wanted people to see me for who I am. A man. An almost vulnreable man. Who has his weaknesses.

O

I feel my eyes open. It's the only way I know I'm even awake. I have to feel my eyelids pressed against one another.

But the pain from the beating also help let me know.

I think I passed out before they tried to brainwash me witht the free will brahmin shit. So I guess they just went ahead and roughed me up. Skipped the pleasentries.

Each time I breathed, it felt like a white hot stake was being shoved into my chest and twisted around. I could feel blood running from my forehead to my nose. It fell off.

Drip...

Drop...

Drip...

Drop...

Each pulse of my heart pushing out a tiny bit more. My heart, trying to help close the wound was only making me weaker. But I could sleep. I wouldn't move much. I'd heal easier. I think.

Drip...

Drop...

Drip...

I hope.

O (Sarah's POV)

No way. This can't be happening. I'm at Al's funeral. My Al. My Al Sorenson, who'd cried himself to sleep in my arms, risked his life on so many occasions to keep me uninjured. My love. I always figured he'd outlive me. A healthy guy like that. He'd probably live a few more wears, guiding people, teaching what he knew to the next generation of men and women to safegaurd the Wastes.

I'd always figured, that, even if he didn't neleive in God, I'd wait for _him _at the gates. I never thought he'd wait for me.

I never _wanted_ to think he'd wait for me.

But here I am, on this bench, waiting for my own death. What else am I to do? Try and find another person like him? Or even comparible? Shit...I don't even know.

Someone's touching me. Some weight on my shoulder. Soft, but to get my attention. I look at the hand first. Old, wrinkled, but skilled. Only one person. I look up at my father. He's looking at me through teary eyes. Oh God...I know what he wants.

It's my turn to talk.

I don't know what to say. Till now I've been in a daze, trying to make sense of things. Okay...I was cuddling with Al in Tenpenny Tower...we don't dee each other...dead.

WHAT THE FUCK?

Wait...the Hell? I'm at the podium? I guess I moved without thinking. But I still have nothing to say. What can I say?

I loved him...how we met...how we fell in love...no. That's too personal. And besides. I can't even talk, my throat too choked up. So...I simply stand up from leaning, shuffle back to my seat, and go back into my seated fetal position.

O(Back to Al's)

Now, most everyone is shocked a this. Al's rumored love interest, having nothing to say? But I get it. She couldn't say anything. I know I wouldn't talk if she died. Or I thought she died.

But most everyone in the crowd, abeilt the people who spoke, don't see this. They just see what's directly in front of them.

All...except one man.

This man is having a precarious seat on the edge of the Citadel's wall, watching the procession in silence and doubt. He rests his elbows on his knees, hunching forward, head hanging down, finding great interest in his boots. He was deep in consideration. I'm a tough son of a bitch. Skilled, and I don't want to leave any loose ends when I die. I don't get mad or bullheaded in a fight, always a calm, clear mind. I understand the concept of cover, and use anything, even if it means I have to lie down.

He's known me for quite some time. Longer than Fawkes. So he knows I have a strong survival mechanism. I don't go down easy, and when I do, I know how to get myself right back in the fight.

He ponders. And the more he does, the more he feels I'm somewhere out there.

Now, he's a big guy. Bigger than me, and that's _really_ saying something. No, he's not a Super Mutant. And no, he's not a Ghoul. He's just a human. But big as he is, he's probably one of the most unnoticed people in D.C. Why? Because he helped out the Outcasts from the Brotherhood, something I couldn't do, and got this form-fitting kevlar suit that has a built-in stealth function.

And his name is Hollow.

He's not a savior of humanity like me. But he's also not a man bent on making life miserable for all around him. He's...in the middle of it all. He's probably one of the best examples of a man trying to get by I've ever known. And we know how tough the other is to kill. So he's damn sure I'm not dead.

He's less of a man, more of an ideal. One who is not completely bad, but can't be called good either. He's a paradighm of Humanity, a true beholder. He does not act out of spite nor mercy, but simply to make people look at themselves. He's trying to redeem himself from his past, but many who he offers help to deny him for fear of his former self.

And he can think of only one place to look. Where all of his darkest days had passed. The place where he called the men and women around him comrades.

And luckily enough...he's heading right for me.

Goddamn it, but I thank my luck in finding this son of a bitch out there that day.


	7. Screw that John guy, Al wake up!

Hey Guys. I'm just gonna start. Please review, tell your friends, and tell them to review. BTW: The chapter is a refrence to the Halo 4 motto. Just to let you guys know.

O

There's gotta be a way out. I mean, they cant't have this place inpenetrable, right? It's a repurposed rent-a-nuclear fallout shelter for fuck's sake! These things are only for the really paranoid when they come out from their homes and see a plane go overhead in Pre-War times!

It's a hunk of steel. Not even lead. Steel. My right hand is made of tougher shit! If I had the stength, I'd bust out of this fucking thing! Hell, my fist it probably enough to wrnech the door open!

I'm Al Sorenson, god-damn it! If these slaver fucks think they're gonna take me down, they're DEAD FUCKING WRONG!

O

Amata rotated her small shoulder. Though, from her perspective, it was a fucking massive one, being power-armored. It had taken some time, yes, but the Enclave soldiers managed to get her trained to use it. It was hard work, about 3 weeks worth. But form the brass's orders, apparently worth it.

No. No, they are not trying to use Vaulties as a shock trooper. Despite whatever your personal feelings might be on Vaultie one man armies, I'm a one-in-a-million- kind of Vaultie.

What? Why are they using Amata? Well, for how much annoyance and headaches she's caused Harkin, I'd be pretty eager to get her to feel like she's doing something. Not saying she's a total bitch. I really do have mixed feelings. It's strange.

So now Amata and two other soldiers are going out to scout the area. Which is utterly futitle, the Enclave already have extensive maps of the local area. So what's the point?

Well, you try a nagging girl up your ass about how you'e not helped the Wastes at all over the past months, and let's see you get an oppurtunity to get rid of her for a few days.

Yeah, pretty inviting.

O

There's a way out.

I know it.

There's just gotta be a way out. I mean, it's just a cylinder. A tube of metal. Outside it, a bunch of wrecked cars. Plenty of footholds to climb over. From there?

An endless expanse of hidey-holes.

But what's truly out there? Yes, freedom, yes, victory. But you know what I miss most of all? Or rather, who?

I'll give you one guess.

Sarah.

I know. I'm predictable when it comes to her. But how can I not be? She's beautiful, smart, can at least accept my off-the-walls sense of humor. And God, but must she be worried.

I'll come to you soon.

I promise.

O

It's past midnight. The moon's waning, and dropping from it's heavenly height. It's beams of gentle light caress the wastes, giving them a beauty unheard of to those who sleep at night without fail.

A small pack of Yaoi Guai roam, searching for a cozy cave to rest. Raiders, Mercs, and Wastelanders try to do the same, if they hadn't already.

It's astoudningly calm. There's no gunfire. Or atleast, it's far and few. Most people are listening to the recording of my funeral. Everyone's still mourning. Even Raiders.

Only one thing wrong with this picture. A glimmer on a rock. Any normal person would take it as the wavy mirage they see off the asphalt. And just before sleep, they realize that thoe only happen during the day.

Not at 3:00 am.

But this doesn't matter to Hollow. He can care less if some wastrel spots him. Devil knows how long Hollow'd been sneaking. Suit just makes it easier.

He's a man on a mission: Find his friend. Me, the man who helped him realize his valiant past. Help him realize he was not always a Slaver.

And he's outside the only place that could possibly hold me.

Paradise Falls. Home sweet Home.

O

How bad can it be?

I mean, it'd be easier that taking this, right?

THe box, the silence, the beating, the starvation, me being with my own thoughts. God, my own thougts are killing me!

There's no way free will could be this pleasurable. I mean, silent servitude couldn't be all bad, right?

A cot, regular meals, other people, light, sounds. Hell, just thinking about it makes it sound great.

I might just do it.

I mean, it can't be so hard saying that free will isn't all that great.

So all I have to do is wait.

I'm good at waiting.

O

Two men, partially bulky build. One on left a six, the right a seven. Right has a sledgehammer and a 32. Left has Hunting Rifle, and kitchen knife. Both headed toward the Box. Hollow'd already figured that that's where I was at. This only confirmed it.

Through the scope of his rifle, he watched the two open the box, and drag out a huge son of a bitch. They dragged me with my legs hanging behind us toward the main building. Probably where the leader is. On second thought, definetly. Once they dragged me into the complex, he scanned the rest of the new Paradise Falls.

All of them not like the Slavers. They were there solely out of selfless reasons. They wanted to help heal people.

AKA: Off limit kills.

Hollow cursed, then regretted it. His throat burned, he lifted a hand to soothe it, but stopped. He lowered it, hoping that toughing it out would make it hurt less in the future.

He shimmied back, then rolled over onto his back.

He sighed. I was gonna have a tough time getting out.

O

God, this is so familiar by now. Me, held up by two men, on my knees in front of this short-haired woman. Me, a hulking 6'8 son of a bitch, in a trampled, weak state of mind and body.

SHe looks down at me, arms crossed. An almost...patient, caring look in her eyes. Her mouth frowning.

ANd then the lips part, making noise before they began.

"So. Are we ready to admit it?" I stayed silent. Whish is a first. "What? No remarks on my hair, or, how you take free will like jet? What a pleasent surpise." She says with mockery.

I simply stare hard. Not too many people like it when I glare. My eyes get this cold, really calculating look to them. They reflect just a little more light, and I never falter until they look first. And I never blink.

She looks back, tries to match my look. To no avail. But rather than try and brush it off, she simply gets to her point.

"Free will is not a good thing."

Now, and I regret this fully, there was only a moments pause. And that was to wet my throat. But, almost like a dream, I hear something.

"Ree...-ill...-ot...ing..."

Her eyebrows shoot up, her eyes alight in anticipation. She heard somehting other than the spiteful retorts I've been known for.

"Say again." It wasn't a request, as if something distracted her. It was "Let me make sure I heard you right." She wanted to make sure.

"-Ree...will...not...good."

She smiled sickeningly. "One more time." HEr lips moved.

My throat was ready. But I'm not sure what I was thinking. I never will.

"Free will...is not a good thing."

She smiled. Warmly, actually. "Let him up. Get him a chair. And water, now!" She yelled at her gaurds. They scuttled off, obeying her whim. She kneeled in front of me, in fornt of my chair. She looked into my eyes, softly, and talked about how I'd finally made the right choice. Honestly...I kinda beleive her. If she's actually trying to help people, or atleast the oes who need it, then maybe I can help.

I mean, there's really not much that the Wastes can't handle, right? The Enclave can't be so bad. Hell, I blew their base sky high. Destroyed their president. I'd do it again, too! (FBI, if you're reading this, I don't mean that. It's President Eden, not Obama. Oh say can you see...) So they won't be a problem for a long time. Everyone probably thinks I'm dead.

Some idiot made a rumor, and cause I haven't been around, Three Dog might've decided to go through with it. Gotta love the snowball effect. So I'm dead. Great!

Well...since I'm dead, I can take a break. Have some well-deserved down time from the fame. Hell, gettin' better all the time!

O

Movement. His eyes shift. The door opens, men scurry out, scattering. Something happened. Something big. Hollow pulled his head away from the scope. As good a sniper as he was, he couldn't track four or five men at once through the crosshairs. He followed the first one. He went running off to the mess hall. For food? Why? It's well past their lunchtime. And yes, Hollow has been here for a few days, and when he wants a location scouted, he notices everything.

It's too early for dinner. So...what? Hollow shifted his eyes down to the sand. _They take him to Eulogy's home. _As Hollow thought of the paragon of sin, an old flame of rage quivered inside of him. All that man had taken...

No.

Hollow can't think of that. I taught him that the only way to heal was to move past it, and never, ever, ever look back. He beat the flame into the smolders it had been for years. And with it came a sense of pride. He overcame his anger, not letting himself become what he hated. He smiled behind his orange visor.

His ever-focused gaze moved up again. They hurried back to the main building. Hollow peered through his scope once more, and a second nature took over. His mind dulled, only running auto-pilot. Most people think that when you're sniping, you have to count for everything, and it's why snipers are always mentally exhausted.

No. The truth is that you're in hyperfocus. All you can see is your target. You watch him breath, draw his final few breaths. You see him step, check if he has a limp that could make him stumble. All you think about is the target, then the next one after that.

His breathing slowed, his body tensed. He wasn't going to take a shot. But it was simply a habit. And a good one. So he really didn't find it in his best interests to try and break it.

All the little worker ants scurried into the building. The glass was old, stained, and no one had the mind to clean it, so Hollow, despite his eyes, couldn't see behind it.

He cursed in his mind. Only way to tell what was going on was to be right there.

With his skill though...he could probably sneak in without so much as a sidelong glance his way. His suit helped too. He slid backwards from his hill and rolled over. He didn't want to risk his comrade's life though.

O

I can't remember anything really. I mean, sure, there's some stuff, but it doesn't seem to be too important. At least I think so. I mean, something's trying to tell me that I need to do something.

Just something.

It's infuriating, really. That little itch that won't go away. But that really doesn't matter. Mrs. Ananda was a kind leader, and she gave me a week or two of rest before setting me to do tasks. Which were easy. Just help feed the people, help rehabilitate them, and do other stuff. It was all pretty easy. All the other gaurds are nice to me now, and the two that were my handlers apologized. But the way they said I acted? Killing people and eating them? I would've done it too.

Handlers are the people that are assighned to one or two of the people here. The handlers will try to rehab the patients, but of course sometimes they must be beaten, and once we think they're ready for normal life, we place the handler in a room, and a 10mm on a table. We let the patient come in and we tell him that he has a choice: Killl his handler, the man who more or less tortured him, or walk away. Those who walk away are ready. Those who don't...back into rehab.

But most of them choose correctly. So that's good. But I can never get over that itch.

_You have to do this..._

_You can't let her down..._

_Please, listen to me..._

But what is it?

This is almost as bad as the silence...almost.

O

Hollow had been on the ridge for three weeks now. And each day, even now, he hoped that I was just recovering my strength to escape, just a ruse to liberate myself, then D.C. From the Enclave's hands.

He know's that I'd never let the Wastelanders down. As much as I hated being called a "Messiah", I knew that I was their protecter. I couldn't let them die. I'd never live with myself.

But the way I was moving...I was chatting with the other gaurds. I was helping the "Patients". I was acting like I'd been brainwashed.

God was Hollow right.

O

The second I opened my eyes, I could tell this was a dream. I wasn't sleeping in my cot. I was on the ground, out in a completely open waste field.

It was nightime. I was so alone, afraid, without people here. Sorrow took a hold of me as I hadn't been alone since...the box. I don't want to stay here. It's cold. Like the box.

But I could feel something in the moonlight. Like, once, in another life, it gave me solace, it gave me strength and life through it's touch. He felt as is he waited all this time for it, but another side said he wasted the time.

I saw a man in the distance, running toward me. As he grew closer, I could make out details. He was wearing some sort of armor, not bulky, not light, but heavy enough to defend, but not so to wiegh him down. And a hat, blocking the sun from his eyes.

As he neared me, he skidded to halt, dust billowing upward. I coughed and hacked, covering my eyes. Once clear, I found him looking worried, ragged, injured. He spoke to me, in a familiar voice.

"You have to snap out of this!" He yelled to me. I looked at him, an eyebrow raised in wonder.

"What do you mean? I feel fine!"

He shook his head rapidly, then took a step forward. "No, no, no," He spoke, his voice higher in nervousness. "You're not fine! You're horribly injured!"

"How?" I ask the man, of whom I do not know his name. "How am I injured?"

"That's irrelevant. If you don't snap out of this trance, you, the _real you_, will die!"

"No...that's impossible. This is the real me. I'm going to wake up now." I said, matter-of-factly.

He began to look desperate. "Don't leave me alone! I barely see you at all!"

"Why? What can you ofer me?"

"I can save you! From who you are! If you keep like this, the real you will slip through the cracks of your mind. The man who you truly are will fall into the black. And once he falls to the depths, you'll never be the same. You'll only have dreams, dreams of a past life. A better life."

"Why? I like this me." I answer him.

"Do you want to kill someone?"

"No! Of course not!" I wanted to help my patients.

"Then if you don't remember who you need to find, then you'll kill yourself!"

"No...I can't kill someone I'm not..."

"CAN YOU EVEN HEAR ME!" He screamed, echoing across the field.

I can't answer, only nod.

"Then find her. She's your source of strength when you're weak. You'd trade everything just for a last moment with her."

"But Mrs. Ananda-"

"Forget her! I can't scream at you from the abyss you dig! Please! Find her!" As the man said that, everything began to blur, fade, and then mix.

"Wait!" I yelled for him. "Who is she?"

He smiled. "You'll know her."

I had one last question for this wise man. "Who are you!"

The dust storm silenced, though the winds still raged. Even as the world fell, he still managed to give me my last answer.

"Me? I'm the real you."

O

The morning was hell for me. Shit. I had that weird dream. So now I'm sitting at lunch, near the radio. It was broken, but I fixed it. I dunno how, but it came natural to me. Who knows?

So there are like three stations. Galaxy News Radio, Agatha's station, and the Enclave station. The other guys tell me it just started back up, for almost no reason. But I like the music. And President Eden seems like a great guy. Maybe Mrs. Ananda and he know each other...

But that doesn't matter. Not to me atleast. All I could care about it making sure Mrs. Ananda's dream come become a reality.

So that's why, to help, I'm going to be on my first mission soon. I'll find someone in need of rehailitation, and bring them back. It sounds kinda hard, but the other gaurds say that I was a real hassle back when I was wrong. Because of my size or somehting. I guess I am a lot taller than most others.

I can hardly wait, though. Something in me wants to get outside. To smell the air. To feel the sun bearing down. To roam, despite the fears. To wander. So would it hurt if I got started now? I mean, a saying goes "If you're early, you're on time. If you're on time, you're late. If you're late, then you're scewed." So I'm going to be early. I rise to my feet, turn gracefully and step casually towards the exit. I left the radio on to make it seem like I was only going to be gone for aminute.

"Hiding in plain sight" is an oxymoron that most people think is a complete and utter sentence of the idiotic. It's actually very effective. If no one thinks you're doing out of the ordinary, then people won't disturb you. It's crazy, but true.

I smile at people, wave, greet. I shake hands, high five, joke. These are my friends. I'm not doing anything wrong. If anything, I'm taking the initiative on being right.

The only trouble I meet is at the front gate. The keeper, a black man in his mid 30's sits with his legs propped up, a hunting rifle in his hands.

"Hey, buddy." He says to me, startled at me unexpected approach. "Where you goin' at this hour?"

I smile. "Just gettin' a headstart on my mission."

He _ahhs _and responds, "So Mrs. Ananda finally picked you from the bushel. Well, good luck my man." He finishes and lets me be on my way.

I say farewell and be on my way. He's honestly nice, despite gruffness towards the beginning of our aqquantanceship. He was one of my originial handlers, until he told Mrs. Ananda that he "Didn't want his neck snapped from that brute's slap". A rude way to put it, but I can lift alot more than everyone else. It's kinda cool, makes me feel good, but it makes the other guys a little offset. The ladie though...they just can't help but rub my arms. Makes me feel...funny, I guess. Not "ha-ha" funny, but...good funny.

I don't really care about them though. Sure, I guess from what the other guys say, they're "Hot pieces of ass" but I look at their faces more often. I dunno.

I shake the thoughts out of my head and lean down and raise my legs high. I take off at that point, crossing ground like a hound. I love this. I barely think. My feet take a life of their own, placing themsleves in the most oppurtune places for th next stride, in perfect tandem. My eyes take in mountains of information, each rock, anything moving, obstacles, so much at once.

It's exhilirating. I plant my feet on a rock, and propel myself upwards, stepping lightly as I run. When I reach the top, I vault over the peak, and on m landing, I roll and break the force. I stay crouched for a moment, and then look back at it, panting. I love my life.

Out of nowhere, or thin air, or _something_ a figure in a black suit just launches himself at me and I go down. I don't even have time to yell before he has me in a chokehold. I struggle, but to no avail. I, insticntualy, toss my head back, in an attempt to stun and overtake my opponent. Wait...how did I do that?

Doesn't matter. The assailant expected and planned for me to do this. I slammed myself into the rock I'd just jumped over. I felt the darkness, soothing sleep, lull me. It called to me, giving my tired mind and pained body another option. I took it against my will.

O (A/N)

I'm sorry it took so long. I've been having computer issues.


	8. Convergence

Hey guys. Just had to edit the last chapter, a promise I had to keep. It's hopefully smooth sailing from here on out.

O

Amata looked around the land. She could barely describe it. It surpassed her knowledge of her entire life. She thought it would be a little better than this, though. After two hundred years, some flora would have to appear, right?

Wrong.

As she looked around for the umpteenth time, still barely belieing it. Arid, unforgiving, treacherous, and dead. Just death all around. It made her well up all her emotions she had felt in the Vault and view upon them as petty notions compared to what the Wasteland had seen. You'd think Amata, of all people, would cry and try to do something. Something to help a little kid, or an old man.

A superficial notion to lessen her guilt of her Vault life.

But she felt nothing. Just as empty as the miles around her. How could she feel? When she was with me, she could distract herself. But now, flanked by two Enclave soldiers, she could do nothing to ebb the Wasteland's pain.

"God..." She whispered, as if it were a great beast that was calmly letting them go by, and if awoken, would swallow them whole, "I can't believe this. Who could survive out here?"

The soldier on her left decided it wasn't retorical. "Only a brave soul. A brave and really fucking stubborn soul."

Amata sighed. "Well, Al was definetly one of those."

They continued, all three in armor. One was wearing armor that had nodes on it, sprouting from it like fungus, transferring power in green sparks. He held a similar weapon, dark in the metal, but with green tubes and lights on it. She thought she saw the armor's sparks jump to the weapon every so often.

She hated the helmet, so instead of that, she was allowed an Officer's hat. She didn't tuck her hair under, and it was still comfortable. It shielded her face from the glaring sun, giving her some needed shade. She'd only been outside of the Vault once. And it still wasn't any easier. _No wonder Al always wears his hat and shades! _She thought. She smiled for a half moment then it subsided, remembering that he may be terrified in his place.

She was thankful, however, for the suit's air-conditioning. The last time she was out and about, in her security armor, she theorized that you couldn't get that wet in a pre-war ocean. Now, it was bearable, even though the suit was abit heavy. She knew it could be much worse, if the joint servos weren't working. She'd listened to rumors of Enclave troops running out of power, and their armor locking down.

They have a word for troops in lockdown without a team: Guai Bait.

O

Hollow looked at my unconscious body, having propped me up on a chair. He, through his gold visor, tried to make sense of what happened to me. Every week since I was inside, they'd taken me in for the question. Why was I working for people who tortured me. Maybe I was under pain of death? Hollow shook his head. That'd never stopped me from doing what I want when people said they'd kill me.

Perhaps they had threatened to let Talon Company have their way with me, or some raiders. Hollow made a disbelieving face behind his gilded eyes. No way could I be coerced from some petty thing like that. I didn't care about what happened to me. I know exactly how much punishment my body can take. Hollow looked up at one of his cieling lights, head cocked slightly.

It was tough thinking. But, unfortunately, Hollow isn't exactly the smartest when it comes to psyology. He can tell you exactly the way a mark will move, where he'll turn his head, and what his buddies will do when he takes the shot, but beyond that? Nada.

Hollow sighed, a barely audible noise. And it still hurt him. What happened before he became an enigmatic Soldier of Fortune was he worked for slavers. he refused to do a job one day, and they beat him almost to death and forced him to drink bleach and amonia, leaving his throat scarred and ravished. He can't utter a sound without a sharp, agonizing reminder of his sins.

He's lost in thought, but his mind forces him to focus when he hears a noise coming from my direction. He snaps his gaze up, arms still crossed. He leans forward innoticably, unsexressably intent on learning how I'm faring.

"Uhn..." I groan, shifitng left and right, my head lolling to one side or the other. My eyes flutter open, my mouth hanging down a little. "Where...Where am I?"

Hollow almost spoke to me, but he knew it'd hurt. He chose his preffered method of conveying his wisdom to the wastes. He leaned over, uncorssing his arms and picked up a clipboard and pencil, and scribbled down a few words. The noise of the board agaisnt the pencil was faint but reminded me of...something. A time...I don't know. I forced my eyes open as Hollow turned it around.

A Safe Place.

That's what it said. Hollow was the most taciturn man I know. He didn't say anything unless it was vitally important, and even when he was wriitng he didn't wirte much. But it sort of gave me some relief. If this black-clad giant wanted me dead, then I'd be dead. Maybe he was freinds with Mrs. Ananda, and this was a safehouse. That was probably it.

"Okay...I'm fine. You can get me a gun and I'll get on with my mission." I stated, still in an amount of pain. I eyed him gratefully, but he shook his head. "Why not?"

He crossed out the words he just wrote, them being on the top of the page, and scribbled another sentence.

You're not well. They've tricked you.

I made a skeptical face at that. "Why would thye lie to me? THey're my friends!" THe man shook his head no. "Look, I need to get people to Paradise Falls to get rehabilitated. It's very important that I do this!"

He shook his head no, then took his pencil and tapped his newer words three times. I was getting annoyed at this. "What do you want?" I yelled at him, then apologized for that. It was rude to yell at people. He didn't react, only rolled his head.

Then he flipped the paper over. He looked at me straight in the eyes, and then I heard that noise again, that even, cardbaord-y scratching. I averted my eyes first, something that, if I was in a right state of mind, I'd never do. He turned the board, and I saw it.

You're not the real you.

My eyes widened, and I froze up. My dream's words came back to me. I wasn't being true to me. If this guy knew the true me, then I think I should trust him.

O

Amata and her group found Megaton. But, rather than waltz in and have a meet-n'-greet, they gave it as wide a berth as the Black Plague.

"We're not really welcomed there. Dirty propaganda from 'Three Dog'," the Enclave trooper spat as if the very name was a poison, "Made us look like terrorists, eager to cut someone up just for the fun of it. We're trying to remake America, but no one seems to realize that the ends justify the means."

Amata hummed a response. One thing I told her when I returned was that the ends rarely, if ever, justify the means. Even if one could obtain world peace by wiping out the human race, nuking the planet doesn't justify it.

So they were heading north, towards Arefu. It was silent. Amata had suspicions of the Enclave, not just because I did, which helped, but because they were obviously lying to the sheltered Vaultie. It angered her to be treated like a sheltered infant. She thought she understood the hardships, the pains of living in a nuclear apocalypse, but she didn't. At least she's getting an easy transition for her second go. I didn't get an easy ride no matter what I did. She's getting armed gaurds who have formal military training, and a good sense of impending danger.

And you know what I had? I had my wits, my smarts, and my hat.

She's also wearing advanced power armor . I had a slightly armored jumpsuit. Didn't even cover the chest. Then I bumped up to leather armor, and used a lever-action rifle and a double-barreled shotgun, a combat knife, and a .32. It was better, but not good enough. I could get into cover faster, but if they took me by suprise, I was fucked. So I moved up to metal armor, outfitted with an R91 "Backtalker", a sniper rifle, my .44, and, once again, a combat knife. It gave me the kind of portection I wanted, but I learned the hard way that you can't commando roll out of the blast radius of a grenade whilst in a scrap metal suit. But before I found my trusty suit of combat armor, I moved up to power armor. I figured that I'd never need to dodge if I was a tank. By that point I was deadset against the Enclave, and fond of their weapons, so I used a laser rifle, a minigun, and a ripper, and a 10mm SMG.

I upgraded to their Tesla armor, and swapped my laser rifle for a plasma rifle. I like the recoil on it, it helps me pace my shots. And helps me relate back to lead-spitters. I was back to a...calmer state of mind, so I was back to two rifles, a combat knife and my .44. I was hellbent on revenge, and I almost lost myself. Sarah helped make sure I didn't self-destruct, or worse in my eyes, harm innocents.

That was my worst worry. People getting hurt around me. It's why I worked alone. It's why only so few people can only say they know me on a personal level.

But I'm not important right now. What is important is what happened to the Enclave soldier on Amata's right flank. As they walked north, one of them mentioned how Paradise Falls used to be a slave trading outpost. The main HQ of it all. But I cleared it out. I _hoped_ that it'd become a refuge for wastelanders to congregate and thrive, but _no_, a new batch just _had_ to come in and take over. Of all the bullshit that goes on...whatever.

About fifteen seconds after he said that, Amata realized that I wasn't being held there or my safety, but, as in a game of chess, to pin down the most threatening piece to futher the offensive. Three seconds after that, the Tesla armored soldier had his throat cut open by a .308 round fired from a football filed's length away. Even though it lost momentum, the shot was so precise that it tore through the plastic covering his neck and tore out through the back of his neck, keeping his spinal cord intact.

So he felt everything. His blood draining, the bullet, the entrance and exit wounds.

Hollow shrugged. He _supposed _that was merciful. For what the Enclave deserves, Hollow could've done much, much more painful. Maybe a shot to the gut, then legs. No. Kneecaps. Both of them. Completely crippled. It's like lockdown, but worse. And you remember what the call lockdowned soldiers, right? Guai Bait.

I might not have done the same. I have the courage to say so. I know, that after I let Col. Autumn go, it was the greatest feelings of relief to forgive. It's what my dad would've wanted. But I know that I may not be able to forgive again. And that scares me. Because if I hurt someone that shouldn't be hurt, then how could I forgive myself?

The still combat-capable Enclave soldier raised his rifle and crouched, searching the northern rocks for the sniper. He actually passed over Hollow's spot twice, but due to the advanced Chinese tech in the stealth suit, they'd never find him. But he could see them. This time he went straight for the kill. He took a shot at the head, and even though it didn't kill him, it hurt like hell. He fell back, a hand to his forehead. There's a weak point undeneath the breastplate of Enclave armor, and at the angle Hollow had, he simply shot a round into the man's stomach.

He would die quickly from the internal bleeding after that point. Amata, however, was hiding behind a rock. She was completely petrified. Where did he come from? Who was he? How did he do that? The best marksman she knew was me, and I, to her knowledge was stuck in Paradise Falls "For my own protection." Man, if only Amata wasn't so damn trusting...

Hollow saw that this last one was scared. His first, primal instinct was to go in for a kill. His hand unconsciously slid towards his knife. As he felt the hard, familiar, _comforting_, handle of his blade, he shuddered and pasued. He looked down, ashamed, angry at himself. He vowed never to kill in anger again. Never to kill without cause.

Memories flooded him. The people, the _dozens_ of people he had brought to slavery. Their faces looked to him in fear, anger, disgust. He cared nothing for them. No. He was angry at them. Angry for being weak. The weak didn't deserve to live under their own devices. The strong must either destory the weakness, or control it. There is no making the weak into the strong. You were born strong, or you were born weak.

Then the little boy, who stood up to him to protect his mother. How the boy reminded him of a younger time. Beneath his brilliant gold visor, a tear welled in his eye.

He stood up, and made his decision. He started following a "What would Al do" rule. And what I'd do is taken him prisoner, interrogate. He balanced himself as he slid down th hill, the sand cascading past his foot like a pre-war boat. At he reached the bottom, he ran, slowing himself. He shouldered his rifle from his back, ready for some Enclave trick.

As he rounded the rock, he saw Amata shuddering, crying, scared. He kicked a rock at her leg, and she looked up, scared. She held up her hands, surrendering.

"Please, don't kill me!" She pleaded, blubbering. She took off her helmet and gave Hollow the best defensless look she could muster.

Hollow simply stood there. He motioned with his sniper's rifle to stand up. She did, and she got the real deal of how massive he was. She put her hands behind her head. Lips quivering, she asked him one question.

"Are...are you the devil?" She was almost afraid of the answer. Hollow cocked his head and lowered his rifle a little bit. He thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Are you...g-going to kill me?" She gulped. Her knees buckled, but didn't give. He shook his head again. She felt almost relieved.

He spoke. His voice was strained, almost a whisper, not like a Ghoul's, but like someone who hasn't spoken in a millenia. "But..." He looked almsot in pain. But he was. The slavers made sure that he was reminded of his betrayel to them everytime he spoke. "...I won't be your hero."

O

After hours of walking, or what it seemed to be out of fear of being shot in the back, Amata's legs wrapped and burning in pain. The andrenaline that flooded her was long since gone, now replaced by a timeless dread of the torture ahead. She wished that she had mad eit seem like she was going to attack the big man. Maybe he would've killed her. That would've been better than this waiting and walking.

He stepped ahead and unlocked a padlocked door. He held the door open for her. She almost said "Thank you" out of instinct, but stopped herself. She slowl stepped into the space. It was darker than the vault during a power outage. She wanted to turn her pipboy light on, but remembered the man with a .308 with a crack shot. Hollow stepped in front of her, and tapped his left arm.

It took her a moment to figure out what he was doing in the black, but she figured it out. She was witty like that. Countless hours of sherades made sure of that. She turned it on, and took a step back as she saw the extent of traps there was.

The floor was covered with them. Bear traps, mines hidden under clutter, tripwires connected to grenades and shotguns, you think of it, it was there. The way Hollow's hideout was set up was at first pulse mines and bear traps to scare off mild scavengers. Then frag mines and the tripwires with blunt objects to hurt off raiders. Next, plasma mines with shotguns to kill. If all else failed, then bottlecap mines and the grenade traps.

But the only time when he needed to replace them was when a Deathclaw managed to squeeze its way through. It was a little northwest of the sanctuary, so not many people came by. Only Hollow and I, and we fortified it to hold out against anything. We had food, ammo, clothes, armor, tools, and water here. I'm pretty sure that the last time I was here, before my brainwashing, I left a porn magazine lying on my cot just to mess with Hollow, throw him off his game.

Amata stepped cautisoly around the traps, guided by Hollow. She stepped into the room on the left, and Hollow pointed at the matress on the floor. There were two other cots, on opposite sides of the room. She almost laid down, but remembered her power armor. She grabbed her jumpsuit out of the storage compartment. She turned to Hollow.

"Mind if I have a little privacy?" She asked timidly. She knew she was in no position to be making reuqests, but he still turnd around. Once she had stripped down and redressed, she laid down on the matress, and Hollow sat on his cot. He reached over to grab his clipboard and scribbled: Get rest. You'll need it, Amata.

As Amata fell asleep her last thought was how in God's name he knew her name.

O A/N

You guys are gonna fucking hate me for this. The thing is, I've had this chapter for a while, and just forgot to upload it. I really feel like an idiot on that fuck-up. Sorry.


	9. Wandering in Memory

Let's get started, shall we?

O

My head was pounding. It felt like before Mrs. Ananda saved me, after a beating. I don't like thinking about back then. Because time meant nothing. And if time had no meaning, then space around you was essentially a void. Your world went to nothing. Then your past left you. Then all you could think about was what you were. The man you were. The people you loved, the ones you hate, trying to remember them all, but all millions of facts, places, faces...all just blended into a blur of grays and pain. Then, when you see your captors, all you can think of is how to obliterate them. Rip off their arms, beat their faces in, kick them to dust, scratch until you hit bone, bite and break bones and suck the marrow out while they watch. See in their eyes the demon you are to them. How to commint atrocities on the world for letting you end up there. It can drive you to the brink of insanity, leaving you a babbling fool or nothing better than an animal, killing for food or for fun. Or it can break your very soul, leaving you a husk, obeying orders.

I groaned, hating the thoughts in my head. They came around whenever I wasn't doing something. If I sat for too long, they came. Even if I was doing work. I can recall digging a outhouse hole and them coming. I had to work harder to drive them out.

I liftd my hand to my head, but nothing came. I opened my eyes, screwign them against the light, but ropes around my arm came into focus. I struggled, panicking, but no give came from the cord. I tried kicking, but my legs were also bound. Frustration set in, but I didn't know why. It felt as if I could break through them before, but I was weaker.

_Weaker._

The very thought shook me. It angered me. It scared me. And I didn't understand why.

I heard a muffled voice, just outside the door. I stopped shaking, hoping my inevitable punishment would be lessened for my compliance. As it opened, a behemoth of a man entered. Clad in ebony, and a face of gold, he was like nothing I'd ever remembered.

So why did it feel familiar?

He motioned his head, and a woman came forth. She looked wary around him, as if she were a captive. It made me feel as if I had to save her, throw my safety to the wind. Why? Why would I do such a thing? I can't free myself, much less her!

"Al?" The woman said, her voice trembled uncontrollably. "What did they do to you?"

I tried to speak, but nothing but jargle came out. The woman reached over and removed the rag from my mouth. I hadn't noticed it was there till now, and I tested my tongue on my mouth almost unconsciously.

"Maybe we shouldnt've gagged him..." The woman said. She had a lighter skin ton that Mrs. Ananda, and, being able to see her up close, remarkably pretty. The black clad man pulled a clipboard and pencil from his back, and scribbled on it. He presented it to the woman, and she made a face.

"So what if he was screaming sometimes? It could be important, and if it gets us closer to getting him back, I can handle a few hours less of sleep." The black-clad man shrugged his massive shoulders. He stepped aside, and pulled over a chair. She thanked him, and sat, her hands on her thighs, which, my eyes were inexplicably attracted to. I forced myself to meet her gaze however.

"Al..." She began. She didn't know where to begin. "I...I'm sorry, I guess. For...you know, all the stuff back at the Vault." She blushed, and turned away, towards the wall to my left. "I just didn't know what to do. You didn't talk to me. I felt like a naive idiot around you, and you just let me feel that way. But now I get it, I think. I guess you wanted to cut me off to protect me, make sure I didn't try and come out on my own someday. I've only spent a few weeks with anyone outside the Vault, and I'm already a different person."

"Umm...I don't know what your talking about." I smiled politely, but my eyes looked confused. She laughed a little.

"Very funny Al. Now cut it out."

"Cut what out?"

That's when she reacted. At first it was as if she was angry. Then it flashed to shock. "Oh my God..." She muttered. "Hollow...you were right."

Hollow nodded. He wanted to do something sarcastic to her, but it wasn't the time. "Don't you remember anything?"

"No." I said to her. "I don't."

"By God, Al..." The reality of it hit her. I was nearly gone. They had beaten the strength from me. What they had done, locked me away with myself, my doubts, my fears, my self-criticism, my regrets, my insecurities. It broke me.

And if it broke me, she knew damn well no one else had a mole rat's chance in a Deathclaw nest.

She stood up and began pacing the room. "Okay," she began. Good ol' smart Amata. Wait...where'd that come from? I don't know this girl...do I?

"He looks like they've been beating him." She stopped, stepped forward and ran a hand down my arm. "Badly." She added grimly. "And what did you say they put him in? a box?" Hollow nodded in response, arms crossed, standing in a shadowed corner. "Alright...alright. Torture combined with deprivation of water and food, combined with solitary confinement, and and top of it all, sense deprivation." She went through the checklist twice, as if it had secrets that could be revealed through repetition.

"Probably his mind forced amnesia as a defense mechanism. All we really need to do is feed him well, water him. And one of us _has_ to be in the room with him, twenty-four-seven. And get a radio, some music." She stopped suddenly from her fast pace, equal to that of her mind. "Of course!" She smiled. "Memory jump-starts! The radio will help, but if you have any pictures, anything Hollow, it'd be very, very helpful."

Hollow made his own checklist. He tossed it to her for proofing, and she nodded eagerly. "Perfect! We'll have him back in no time!"

O

It took weeks. Hollow didn't seem to be bothered, but he's made being unreadable an art. Amata, however...you could see the fatigue. The hopelessness of her best friend not recognizing her. Everything she tried didn't work. She tried telling me tales of our past in the vault. I told her they were very entertaining stories. She tried to remind me of who I was. How I was a hero, a legend. I'd single-handedly went from Vaultie to Lone Wanderer. I told her he sounded like a very great man.

She brought in the radio. I heard Three Dog remember some of my adventures. Something sounded familiar with the songs, but I'm sure I heard them all before somewhere or another. She tried begging after a week of no results. She tried praying near me. I was sort of disgusted for some reason. It just got under my skin to see her waste time like that.

Hollow was quite the artist. He drew simple yet accurate pictures. He described what happened in them, how it was me in all of them. But it's not me. It's the man from my dream. I figured out the "Lone Wanderer" is the same person as in my dream.

"Wait...I had a dream of him. He told me that if I don't wake up, I'll be gone. Then if the Lone Wanderer was in my dream, telling me that he's the real me, then...am I him?" I looked with awe at Amata, who's face had lit up. I shook my head. "No, that's impossible. I'm not some hero. I'm just a man. I don't really use a gun too well."

Hollow snapped his fingers, and fled the room. Within seconds he was back, holding a pistol. A .44 revolver. He cut my right arm free, and forced it into my hand. As I clutched it, my fingers seemed to melt into it, like hugging an old friend.

It felt...right. it's the only way I can describe it. I moved it around the room with childlike curiosity. It had my full attention, I was hypnotized. Hollow had a tin can in his other hand. He waved it, caught my attention, dragged it from my new friend.

He tossed it gingerly into the air. I knew what he wanted me to do. Or...my arm did. It flew towards the can, I didn't aim down the sights, or even look at the gun. I just...I don't really know, actually. One second, here, the next: A bullet through the can.

"How...how did I do that?" I asked no one, dumbstruck. Amata looked at me, smiling.

"Now do you believe us?" She said smugly. I could've taken offense if I still wasn't reeling from my crack shot.

"I'm starting to."

O

After that, everything started...domino-ing I guess. Everything felt familiar, but nothing brought back the full story, only blurs and flashes. Hundreds of faces, deformed, bloodied like a demon, fearful and weak, or joyous ones. Scenes that felt like a movie. Stepping out from a dark place...seeing one man pull a weapon on another. A child losing his father. That one more than once. People, millions of people. Brutality. Men raping women for kicks. Gangs all beating victims with metal pipes and clubs. Animals tearing out throats of unwary vagabonds. Children being forced to watch their parent's murder...or worse. Women, men, even children fighting tooth and nail over scraps of food, clothing, anything.

Goodness. Power-armored men, gaurding a family of fugitives. Mercs, being hired to clear a town for settling. Good hearts making the world better. Lab coats, trying to fight radiation and starvation. Farmers, digging what they can from the tainted soil. Hundreds of duster-clad men and women, fighting not for themselves, but for people they barley know, against the men and women who would want to harm those poor people.

Then...beauty. People, relieved, saved, rescued. Alive after a close call. Providing for their families one more day. Seeing their children grow, have their own children. Couples holding one another in a tneder night. An animal caring for her young. A sunset, letting you know the day is done, to put away the tools of war. Or the sunrise, knowing that today, something, somewhere...something good is going to happen.

I felt the emotion in these, but I couldn't bring them into focus. It was infuriating, being so close to the surface of this black pool, but never breaching to the light.

O

I did some research of my own. I noticed on my wrist, there was my Pip-Boy. I didn't know how I knew the name, but I did. It has dozens, hundreds of files on it. I sat for hours at a time, reviewing each one. So many pointless to me, but I could use them later.

I sighed, and gave up for a while. Then a memory tried to break through. A man who defied his pain, his suffering, his fatigue, for the good of strangers. Stumbling into a room, a rapid ticking. A panel, a pad of numbers. I followed the movements of th man's hand. He looked at it, his vision blurring. He hit the number two. That lit a spark. The man almost stumbled, but recovered. He held himself up, and reached for the one button. He almost fell onto it, but the machine beeped a tone. He was losing the fight against the radiation. His vision was blacking out. He only had one more.

From the bottom of his heart, he drew up one last effort. He slammed onto the six key, and held himself on it. The machine approved, and engines, turbines spun, beginning the process. He pushed himself, and stumbled to the glass. He placed a hand to stabilize himself, and another on his knee. He looke up, into the eyes of a beautiful but angry blond woman.

She had tears down he cheeks, and her fist was near his hand. He moved her hand to her, so only the glass seperated them. She looked at it, then at him. She smiled, and her true beauty revealed itself. He lost himself. He gave up the fight, his mission complete. He dropped to floor.

That's the most clear memory I have. And the numbers...two, one, six. Wait...I've seen that before.

My hand flew over my Pip-Boy. I hit keys and scrolled down, I actually passed it and had to slow down. I saw it.

_**Revelations, 21:6**_

_**I am Alpha and Omega,**_

_**The Beginning and the End.**_

_**I will give unto him t****hat is Athirst**_

_**Of the Fountain o****f the Water of Life**_

_**Freely.**_

I realized I was talking along with it. Amata gave me a confused stare. I felt my heart beat faster. My lungs tightened, my muscles tensed. I began to sweat.

I remembered everything now.

And do you want to know what my first thought is?

WHERE IS MY FUCKING HAT?


	10. Lost the Battle, Will Win the War

Hey guys. I I've really got some of the old writing spirit back. It's great.

O

I paced rapidly, my hand running rampant through my hair. I was muttering to myself. I didn't care what. All I knew was A: I don't have my hat. B: I don't have my .44, or any of my other gear for that matter. And C: Amata is outside of the Vault, and Hollow and she are now buddies. Oh, and one more minor fucking detail.

I cannot recall the last seven months of my life.

When I figured _that_ one out, I began to panic. See, the last day I remember was 7/27/79. My Pip-Boy reads 3/14/80. I really don't panic too often. I can maintain an air of professionalism, rationality, and confidence in situations including but not limited to a Raider ambush or stumbling into a clusterfucking Deathclaw nest. So, my head in generally level. And when I do panic, and I really don't do that very often, I either freak out or shut down and try to figure out how this happened.

See, I'm the kind of guy you want at your side when it all hits the fan. If you're my friend, then I'll put you well before me. If I took nightwatch the previous night, and you seem tired, I'll take it. Most of the time, I'll stay up the whole night, let you get your sleep. I'll cut my own rations to keep some for you. I'll resist drinking water in case you need it.

See, I hate, and I mean really, really hate seeing allies die when I'm their partner. It's why I travel alone most of the time. I know every limit of my own body, my mind, and my emotions. I know what I can handle, whether strain or bullets. I don't like people worrying about of me either.

My mind raced. Thoughts jumbled, mixed, resonated, or were blotted out. I missed so much. Not only dangers to the Wasteland, but holidays. I remember my first Christmas in the Wastes. It was in Megaton, and Gob and I had planned to give gifts to a few good people.

To Nova, we gave her a gun to deal with a little-too-rough clients, and I gave her a medical screening. Somehow, some fucking way, she was clean. Suprised my ass. Figured after a few years of prostitution, she'd have at least three STDs. But nope, nothing. To Jericho, I figured a few cartons of smokes would do nicely. And I found a very nice lighter for him, so he wouldn't need to find matches as often. Gob cleared his bar tab. I could've sworn I saw the old bastard shed a tear. I couldn't figure out what to give Gob though. He just told me that offing Moriarty was good enough.

But I'd also missed Valentine's day. Not too important where your husband may get killed the next day, but it was nice to try and do something. I had planned to give Sarah-

My heart skipped a beat at my first thought of her. I felt it stop. I heard it stop. It was like total shellshock. All I could hear was muffled, and an undescriable noise filled my ears. My body went numb. My eyes widened. My mouth dropped.

Sarah...oh no. Oh no, no, no! She must be so worried! No. She's not worried. And no, she's also not counting on me rushing in and sweeping her of her feet. She's a realist. Like me. After seven months, either in mourning, anticipation for my return, or...

My love thinks I'm dead, and has moved on.

You'd think that'd send me spiraling into a depression, but it didn't. I felt...nothing. I wanted to feel something. Mabye angry at her lack of commitment toward me, or sad over being gone so long, for making her go through mourning. Or even happy if she still had hope, just maybe. But I felt numb. Empty. Hollow.

And that...that is the worst feeling of all.

Amata snapped me out of my train of thoughts. "Al, please calm down!" Her hands her held together, begging me. Hollow was reaching out to me.

"Amata, you don't understand, I _need_ that hat!" I yelled at her. "It's...it's...I can't even begin to describe how important that thing is!"

"You can find another!" She pleaded.

"An-...another?" I paused. I collapsed, sitting on the floor. That hat was...it reminded me of my penance. "Amata...Lucas Simms owned that hat originally. After he got killed, his son asked me if I was gonna be like his dad. I promised him I'd make the Wasteland a better place. It's hard. I can't tell you how many times I've thought about just...giving up. Just trying to survive. Look out for me. But then, either that hat blocks the sun, or I touch it, and I remember my promise. Not just to him, but to everyone. That hat...it's not just for shade..."

Amata looked touched. And...melancholy. And proud. It was confusing. "I...I understand, Al." She finally said.

I smiled. I couldn't find words. She was finally beginning to understand how I'd changed. I nodded like a dope. I looked at Hollow. He was rummaging through a footlocker. He apparently found what he wanted. He tossed a light blue rag towards me. I wasn't prepared, and it landed dead center on my face. I shook it off, then examined it.

It was a head wrap. I thanked Hollow, and slipped it on. I confided in him once that I hated my hair, never finding a perfect style. I found one good one since then though. It was quite like Butch's haircut, the whole Elvis look, but minus the tuft of hair haning over the forehead. I figured it worked well enough, so I've stuck with it. But I did feel better with the head wrap.

"Okay. Okay!" I patted my legs a few times, standing up. "Just...give me a minute..."

"No problem." Amata said curtly, but politely. She may not be able to understand how clusterfucked I am right now, but she was always able to know when to back off and let me think.

"Alright..." I paced back and forth. "First thing's first." Ideas raced through my mind. They were subsequently organized, filtered, and put into a logical pattern. Of course, I understood it all, but if I simply let my mind run wild, it's make Hollow's head explode.

"We need info. What they're planning, who's their commander, everything that could possibly give us an advantage. Anyone know where they live?" I asked, half jokingly. Amata piped up first. Unfortunately.

"They're in Vault 101." She answered me. I had to stop for a second. That was my home once. I could walk those halls blindfolded, and still be confident in each step. I grew up there. It's some of my best years, and my worst moments. So, if they made it into there, then either they planned for something like this, or this guy has a personal vendetta against your trulty.

"Ok." I then realized no one had bothered to mention just _who_ was in the Vault. I had a feeling in my gut about the Enclave though. Last thing I remember is a firefight with the paramilitary fanatics. Then the Box. My brainwashed state. And now this. "Who the hell did all this anyway?"

Amata scowled, eyebrows furrowed. "The Enclave." She spat. "Bastards." Well, this is just great. Enclave's in the Vault, I have nothing, and this guy has everything.

Now, I don't remember much from captivity. But I remember one thing. A face. Like mine, but...spitfeful. Devoid of compassion, of love...of benevolence. His face is what pulled me through until I broke. After love failed my mind, hate drove it on. But his face, I made sure to record it.

"How'd they get in?" I had no clue of the answer was. And, in all honesty...I wish Amata lied to me.

"I...after...after our fight, remember?" What...fuck. I do remember. I told her that I wouldn't care if she were dead or alive. I felt my heart hit my feet just then. "There was this guy...he looked like you, Al, an-"

"Wait, what?" I shouted at her, shocked. "The man? Looks like me, no goatee?" I ask. My mind is like a knife. It can get to the most logical conclusion instantly. The most likely thing, or even some random events. Makes horror movies completely boring though. I can always tell what the twist is gonna be.

"Yeah. His name's Harkin." I repeated his name. Now I had a face, a name, and a place. I thought about what would happen if I simply walked in, gunned my way through, and put a bullet in his head. I know I could. But then I remembered the Vault Dwellers. They'd be traumatized. They can barely fight radroaches, if they had to witness the slaughter of doezens of men at the hands of their former resident, it'd scar them.

So we had to do this the smart way. My way.

But back to Amata. "You just...let him waltz in? I mean...fuck! After everything I'd ever said about the Enclave? After all they've done?"

"I..." She began, but failed to express her awed epiphany at how badly she'd just fucked up.

"No, don't even! Even a Vaultie _can't_ be that blind! Did you ever get the feeling that maybe, I dunno, he was planning so much more? Why he did some things? Did it never occur to you that a paramilitary organization that claims to save the Wasteland, rebuild America, would ever be shunned out there? Why would they need to hide? Wouldn't they be heroes? And why would _I_ have fought them? If anything, I should be a part of them! Did all of that simply..." I imitated the wind and passed my hand over my head.

"I...no. It didn't. I was just happy to have someone from outside the Vault..." She sat down, shamed, and her chest shuddered in sadness. I felt my pulse die down from the anger and nervousness and disbelief, down into my own shame. I just made my childhood friend feel like an idiotic, trusting, naive fool. I lowered myself down. I put a gentle had under her chin, my index finger lifting her.

"I...I'm sorry. It's a lot to take in." I said solemnly. She nodded, sniffling. I patted her shoulder, and turned to Hollow.

_What do we do first? _He had written.

I sighed. "First...first we..." I had barely any clue. But I was right before. We needed info, and lots of it. I turned, and rummaged through a box of hardware. Then I plucked out a large hardrive that still functioned. "Take this. Sneak in to the Vault, get to the office. Chances are, Harkin will use the Overseer's office as his own. So just get in there, plug it in, and copy everything on that computer. This will hold it all."

Hollow nodded. He cocked his head, asking if I had anything else I wanted.

"Anything else? Well, if you could pick up some milk from the grocery store while you're out..." I held a straight face for a moment, then let a smile crack. Hollow's head bobbed as he chuckled.

"Actually...try and find my hat. And everything else."

Hollow nodded, then began to scribble. _They don't have that._

"They don't?" I was sure Harkin would keep a trophy...

_They gave it up, and it made it's way to Three Dog._

"Oh. Huh. Well, I guess I'll be heading to D.C. then." I cursed in my head. That'll make having the Enclave think I'm still nuetralized a whole lot harder if Three Dog blares I'm back from the grave, the Reaper not strong enough to hold the Lone Wanderer down! I'm sure that's how he'd say it.

Hollow held a finger up, and scribbled again. _If you don't mind, I'd really like one of those flavored Mentats, so if you could grab some..._

I looked at him confused. Then I realized he was pulling the same joke on me. I laughed out, and patted his shoulder firmly. He ripped off the paper, threw it away, crumbled.

After I was done with my fit, I held out my hand. "Thanks. For saving me. For dragging my big ass here. For taking care of Amata. And everything else while I was gone."

He took it. Pulled me close. I heard him whisper. "You'd do the same for me." We were brothers. We'd fought together, lived together, laughed together, suffered together. We'd won battles, lost friends, and made new ones together. We'd become as close as either of us would let the other. We always worry about our friends. If they're alright, in danger, whatever. We didn't need that with each other.

We are the deadliest men in the Capitol Wasteland. And we'd kill or die for each other.

Felt like eternity. But we finally parted. He nodded one last time over his shoulder, then climbed through the sewer grate. I smiled. I knew that he'd pull this off perfectly. The resistance begins today.

Amata had calmed down.

"Guess what?" I said to her playfully. She looked curious.

"What?"

"We're going on a field trip."


	11. Enter, the Wanderer

"So, we're headed to the Galaxy News Radio station?"

I sighed. Third time Amata asked me this. She simply didn't get it. Go to GNR, get my stuff, go home, kill the Enclave. Simple. Well, other than how we're gonna keep Three Dog's motuh shut, sneak into Megaton and grab enough arms to arm a battalion, and then, with only three people (Considering that two were the Hollow Man and the Lone Wanderer) taking down a heavily entrenched, highly trained Enclave force. That's the only hard part.

"Yes."

"To meet this Three Dog guy?"

"Yes."

"To get your hat and stuff back?"

"Yes."

She _hhmped_ and was silent for only four, and yes, I did count those glorious seconds, before she piped up.

"But what if Three Dog tells everyone else. He _is_ the disk jockey."

"He won't. I'll tell him how important this is."

She made a noise of confirmation. "Wait, bu-"

"But what?!" I yelled, spinning on my heels. She flinched, before stuttering out her question.

"B-but what if an Enclave scout sees you back? Then they'll know you're back."

"So?"

"Then they'll rush their plans. Start...whatever it is they plan on."

And I called _her_ dull sometimes. Why had I not thought of that! Great! Now, we've already made it into D.C., and we have to go back! Great. Just...fuck. Then it all hit me. Hubris would be my savior.

"This Harkin guy...is he proud of himself?" I knew he was. I could just sense it. A master plan like that, I'd be proud of it. She confirmed, and I continued. "Well, even if there's irrefutable prrof I'm back, he'll be so sure of himself he'll ignore it." I went on to a little joke. "Oh, Al'l never, ever escape from my diabolical plan! He'll be trapped forever, and I'll be the Hero of the Enclave!" I dramatically fisted the air, my voice mocking.

Amata smiled and nodded. "Yeah! He actually does sound like that sometimes!" She laughed, and I chuckled. So we went on. And it was not as awkward as I thought it'd be. We caught up a lot. What happened in the Vault, how her father was. Mostly just her talking though. But that was fine. It was nice just to see her smile again. I'd forgotten how funny she could be.

O

It was easy enough, sneaking into the Vault. All it took was a passcode that was..."Lethally obtained" courtesy of an unlucky Enclave patrol.

No one noticed the shimmer of light pass them by, and those that did figured it was the Vault playing tricks on them. The walls reflect light all weird, and the lamps weren't helping. At least...it's what they'd figure.

The only hard part was finding the Overseer's office. Hollow could'nt seem to follow the signs. He thought that the next one may be the mark, but he didn't know. There was no window, no nothing to see through the other side. But...never made an omletee without...ah, you already know.

Hollow pressed the button, and as it slid up, he saw a man on the other side about to do the same thing. Hollow sprang into action, rushing the man, pushing the "CLOSE" button, and clamping a hand on his mouth. Facts raced through Hollow's mind. Male. Old. Hispanic. Vault Dweller. A name...No name, but soon realized that this was the Overseer. Ex-Overseer, given Amata.

Hollow put a finger to where his lips would be, and the man nodded. As Hollow withdrew his hand, and the old man held up his end of the bargain. Instead, he talked calmly, his eyes like knives.

"Who are you? How did you get in here? You're definetly not Enclave. You'd wouldn't be hiding in the shadows. So you must be here to rid the Vault of them." Hollow nodded. the old man was sharp. "Good. The master control is in my...her..." He scowled. "_His_ office. Go left, all the way down the hall, then the last door on the right."

Hollow nodded a thanks, and let the man go. He dusted himself off. "I'll just pretend you were never here." And the Overseer turned around. The door slid open and shut, and Hollow was gone.

After getting to the office, he began the download. He had a rudimentary understanding of technology, so it didn't take long. It went by swiftly, the computer kept in good condition, the hard drive as well. Hollow had only slipped the drive back into his pouch before turning to see the door open and a man walk in.

He had one second to react. If he cloaked now, he may be safe. But Hollow must've thought it was me, so he didn't. Then he thought: If I could make it in, why would I send Hollow? That's when he knew he was caught.

Harkin didn't flinch as he saw the black-armored man. He only smiled.

"So. You must be the legendary 'Hollow Man'."

O

"Almost there, Amata." I called back to her. She slumped behind a way. Good thing too. A few feral Ghouls were in our way. She didn't need to see them. Not rushing at her, hunger in the eyes. Fucking things gave me a heart attack before I came into possesion of a Combat Shotgun.

"Thank God!" My feet hurt so bad!" She exclaimed. If she wee anyone else, I'd have scolded her, made a snide remark. But she was Amata. A Vaultie. Took me some time to get used to all the damn walking.

"Yeah. Trust me, you'll love this guy. He's damn hilarious, but he mixes it up with all his talk of 'The Good Fight'. You'll get along great."

As we walked onto the plaza, the GNR station stood proudly, not only a bunker for any weary Brotherhood of Steel Paladin, but to speaking the cold truth of the Wasteland. What good went on, what bad, and news on the happenings. Every where, abandonded radio towers, forts, towns, even some Raider forts all listened to, and even informed the almighty Three Dog of buisiness in that part of the Wasteland. People made song requests, asked Three Dog questions, even reported on dangers. It's how I sometimes got tips on trouble. Three Dog would hear it, then he'd broadcast. If I was listening in, I'd hear it.

Just one big happy family where I do almost fucking everything, and clean every damn mess.

As we approahed the guards, the questioned us. "State your buisiness."

"Come to give the big Dog upstairs some information."

"Couldn't you have done it on the radio?"

I made up a swift lie. "A little too...sensetive for the waves. Too many malevolent ears."

The Paladin nodded his understanding. He pressed the intercom. "Guy and his girlfriend here to see Three Dog. Says he's got some hot info."

I heard the familiar voice respond. "Send him on up. I'll have some tea and crumpets waiting for him and the Ms."

They let us through, and once I got in, I was happily greeted. "So, my good friend, what can I, the all-powerful Three Dog, do...for..." He trailed off, getting a good look at me. "No...no fuckin' way..."

"Isn't this familiar?" I smiled. "Me, standing here, on a mission? You up there, giving a grand entrence to your greatness?"

He laughed. "Yeah, but that time you came from the ground via the Vault. This time it's the grave you're rising up from." I jogged up the stairs and he embraced me for an eternity. I missed him too. "Where have you been? We had a funeral for you! Sarah couldn't even talk, she was so down..." He then looked like he struck his own nerve. I put him at arm's length. "Hell...I barely recognize you..."

"What? New scars? A more rugged, worn look? Wrinkles from the weight of my imprisonment?" I said, mocking his tendency to try and bring the heroism out of every exploit of mine.

"Not exactly...It's more your beard."

What? My...beard. My hand ran up to my chin. Not my smart, roguish goatee, but a full old-man-out-in-the-desert beard.

"I mean...it's like you hadn't shaved in six mon-...which is proabably close to the truth, ain't it?"

"Yeah, sounds about right. They didn't exactly hand me a shaving kit and mirror in the Box."

He held up his hands, in a "Stop" signal. "Woah, woah, woah, what? You gotta tell me!"

"Too much to do for the whole tale right now." I looked around. "I like what you've done with the place. And the new..." It was a mannequin. On it, a suit of painted pre-war Combat Armor. Holding a .44 magnum. Wearing a Sheriff's hat. And sunglasses. And...what appeared to be a marker-colored goatee.

He'd made me in effigy. How flattering...and kinda-really fucking creepy.

"The new...mannequin. I like it." I dragged it out, my voice high.

Amata piped up. "It looks alot like you, actually." She moved to the back of it. She reached for something. "It's ass is even like yours! Shapely and firm to the touch." She gave her best sly smile and a sultry wink.

Three Dog and I simply stood dumbstruck. I had never seen Amata do anything so...raunchy. She shifted uncomfortably, wrining her hands, morphing back into the shy girl I knew. I turned to my friend. "Isn't she just amazing?"

"Where did you find her?"

"The Vault. We grew up there."

"That's the story." Amata said. Three Dog wanted an interview.

"So, you've known him your whole life?"

"Yep. You know, his face really hasn't changed that much. I have pictures of us as kids. Check 'em out." Three Dog hurried over. They sat oggling in nostalgia.

I was a little annoyed now. "Okay, seriously, what is the fucking manequin for?"

"Oh right...that thing. It's mostly for uh...for a museum I was planning."

"A museum? For me?"

"Yep. Don't need it anymore though. But uh...I'm guessing you want it back."

"Part of why I'm here."

"Yeah. Go ahead. I'd just have to change the facial now..." He awkwardly let go of me, and I stripped my effigy of my...its..._our_ clothes. "So...what brings you back to the land of the living?"

"Never died. Well, sorta did. Too long of a story right now. Too much at stake." I stripped down myself, unashamed in front of my friend.

"Gimme the skinny then." He resigned, folding his arms.

"Well..." Wow. I had never actually thought about it till just now. An Enclave soldier infiltrated my home, buddied up with my friend, and locked me up until my mind wandered. He'd taken some of my soul away. And I had to sum up all the details of it in a "Skinny"?

I resumed. "Enclave plan. It's big. And it's personal now. He's in Vault 101. And it's big. With the Vault, they have tech, food, water, and centralized location. The more time I waste, the worse we are."

"So, just dug yourself out of Limbo, and you don't even slow down. That's how I know you're you. That insurmountable will to pursue justice." He praised.

He was so gonna have the story of his lifetime here. If it weren't a crisis that no one could know about. "Yeah, speaking of that, no one can know I'm back. If the Enclave hears of it, I'm fucked. And if I'm fucked, the rest of you are fucked by association." I wagged a finger in his direction, getting my Combat Armor on. Still, fit like a glove.

"Alright, alright. The biggest news story since your death, and I can't tell anyone. Great."

"Don't worry. Just tell people to rise up. That...you don't need a Lone Wanderer, just a good person who'll make sacrifices."

"I can do that. Definetely." As I finished dressing, I saw Amata sitting in a chair, trying to undress me with her eyes.

"Like what you saw?" And she absentmindedly nodded. She shook herself, and rubbed her arms.

"Christ, Al...You're like...chisled from marble..." She marveled at me, eyes on the floor, blushing hard.

I smiled wide, the flattery working. "Uh, well thanks." I blushed myself. "You're kinda...drooling...over there..."

Three Dog threw his arms down in frustration. "Will you leave some for those of us who _aren't_ as muscular? I mean, if the ladies get used to you, and you marry, then the human race goes extinct, then all your work is moot."

I smiled. He walked into this one. "Hey, hey, hey. There's enough of this," I waved over my torso, "to go around. Even for guys." I winked slyly. Three Dog doubled over, laughing. Amata covered her face, and another wave of red.

O

"You do go by Hollow, don't you?" Hollow gave no response. "Oh, don't worry. I know about your 'speech impediment'." He chuckled at his own joke. "I'll take your silence as your rapt attention.

"I've seen your dossier. Notable marksman. Expert infiltrator. Cold. Remorseless. Little care for human life. Follows orders exceptionally well. Can take down the entire Brotherhood of Steel with naught but a rifle, and a complete lack of fear, of any emotion. The perfect assassin. You're a sociopath. Yes, you've tried to play by the rules, so did I. For a time. But you know what I found out? It's boring. Dreadfully boring.

"So much more hard work than usual. Trying to get a Wastelander's help, for example. Get some ancient device from a mile away, and it's guarded by a pack of Super Mutants, bring it back to him, he tells you that you need to speak to another in a town four miles away. Easier just to torture him till he's ready to talk. And after all that hard work, what do you get? A pat on the back, and seventeen other pathetic worms who have their own probelms, just as petty, and just as insignificant.

"And I know that the Lone Wanderer makes it seem all fun and happy, but don't you remember him? He was always so tired. So stressed. So...weary. And the Wasteland never failed to put another task on his shoulders. Is that how you want it? To finish one job only to find another rock at your feet?"

He let his own words sink in. And Hollow did feel that way sometimes. Like the effort he put wasn't being appreciated. Like he wasn't doing it the way I was, and he never could do it, so why even bother? It'd just mean more effort for less reward...

"I could use a man like you. I wouldn't pressure you to rise above anyone. Only to do your job, collect your pay, and be ready for the next mission. Give it some thought. And please, choose wisely. As a wise man said, a way to destroy your enemy, is to make him your ally. And a former enemy is a very good ally."

He stepped out of the way for Hollow. He passed. Harkin extended a hand. Hollow looked at it, lingered. It's be easier. No more worrying about anyone but himself. No more squalid beds each night. A comfortable, clean, warm bed, no matter what.

But then he realized what he'd miss out on. That feeling of supreme joy when the Wastelander sees his sister safe and sound. Or the family hierloom, even pre-war, is returned. Or a man who owes you his life, the thanks and blessings he bestows upon you.

And no amount of caps can buy that.

Hollow walked out, as ever, wordlessly. And his actions still echoed with Harkin.

"Actually, now that I think of it..." He muttered. "Another saying goes: 'An old friend makes the coldest enemy.' So long...old friend." Harkin chuckled at his joke.

O A/N

I hope you enjoyed seeing Amata put in a less generic role. Rather than leaving the Vault in the first place with the Lone Wanderer, either as a friend or lover, she's more innocent and blind to most of the evil in the Wasteland. You'll see how that affects both Al and Amata.

Also, I felt I should state two things about Harkin. A: I made up his name _before_ the release of Dawngaurd DLC for Skyrim. So, if anything, they stole my idea. Wouldn't be the first time.

And B: I'm trying to make him feel more calculating than the average baddy. Like every word he says is planned two steps in advance. In almost each way, Al's equal. But there's a few things that he doesn't have. Loyal friends, the drive to fight the Good Fight, and one badass Hat.

Chubs out.


	12. Exit, the Sentinel

Hey, boys and girls, just wanted to let you guys know, I have just began production of a Big Skyrim story. I'm working on it with the creator of Hollow, my bro Brian. It'll star several of his own OC's, as well as mine. If you like Skyrim, and you like my style, then you'll love the story. It's "The Taciturn Tale," look it up on my page.

Enjoy!

O

Gob was washing glasses, again. As if they weren't spotless. Well, spotless as you can get with a 200-year old threadbare rag. Nova was leaning against her corner, looking at something very interesting near her feet. Both of them were thinking the same thing.

"So, Gob..." Nova began, shifting her gaze towards him. He looked suprised, then looked at her expectantly.

"Yeah?" He asked her. They hadn't really spoken the last few days. Since Nova had related them to a pair of socks, it'd been awkward between them. Which had never really happened before. Either their shared torture under Moriarty, and for Gob insults from bigots, or for her, criticism from the more Holier-Than-Thou Megaton residents due to her professtion.

There had almost never been an awkward moment between them. Sure, at the beginning, but they were strangers. Now...they were friends.

"How are you today?" It was a polite question, an ice-breaker. But she internally cringed after she said it. They shouldn't be at that kind of talk.

"Fine. You?"

"Good, good." She sighed, and her arms dropped. "Look, I wanna get this off my chest. What I said a few days ago...about..._us_."

Gob stood up straight. "What about it?"

"I meant it." She spat out finally.

"So...what you say to everyone else...?"

"Is a lie." She said forcefully. "I do like you. How you've always kept your chin up. It's...heroic."

"No, Al was heroic. I'm just a Ghoul. I've lived long enough to know I'll outlive them."

"No, really. It's the everyday things you do. Like...you say 'Good morning' every day to me. It's the little things."

"But Al-"

"Al killed a bunch of men. He disarmed a bomb. He did this, he had that, he's all this. But first off, he's a helluva lot younger than me. Hell, I felt like a cougar even talking to him." She laughed softly. "And he never showed any interest in me. But you did. Even when I went up to the room, you still cared." She smiled warmly, wlaking over to the counter. "Thank you."

Gob looked touched. He lowered his arms, and his gaze followed suit. "Nova...I lo-"

At that exact moment, Jericho barged in, loudly shouting about something on the radio. Again.

Nova flew back, suprised. Gob tensed up. Jericho had never moved faster to the radio.

"No song intro this time." Three Dog said over the radio flatly, devoid of humor. "Serious stuff this time. This is gonna replay for a while, so listen up while you can. I just got a personal message from a traveler, telling me that she saw Enclave troops moving. But from where? The one and only Vault 101. Yeah, you heard right. The early Lone Wanderer's home has been taken by his worst enemy.

"Now, you gotta wonder: What's gonna happen to the Vault Dwellers? Well, I don't have fuckin' clue. But if you see any strays...lend 'em a hand. And to Megaton...you're the closest to the Vault...stay safe. No song into this..." Jericho turned the radio down.

Nova gasped. "Oh god..then..."

Jericho spoke calmly. His instincts had turned on. "Me and Stockholm are setting shifts for Enclave watch. Gob, Al ever give you any marksmanship lessons? Adivce? Pointers?"

"Yeah. I can handle a Hunting rifle well enough." Gob nodded.

Jericho nodded back. "Good. We might need you to watch some night. That okay?" Jericho was actually being polite. Normally, he'dve said "Gob, you're gonna be watching for a few nights. Have fun."

Gob gave a thumbs up, and Jericho walked sternly out. Nova chuckled. "Wow. Haven't seen Jericho act like that in a long time."

"Me niether." Gob remarked, agreeing with her. Nova, with a sultry flair, turned to Gob, and leaned seductively against the counter.

"So. Where were we?"

O

I had gotten everything I needed from Three Dog. Apparently, in an act of respect for the "Dead", Ms. Ananda had given Three Dog everything the Enclave had given her. At least it keeps things convienient. Rather not waste time on a scavenger hunt across the Wasteland.

"You look...happy." Amata remarked. I look at her, rotating my arm in my armor.

"Yeah, well...a nice suit makes a man feel whole." I smiled like a dope.

"Suit of armor, you mean?" She raised an eyebrow sharply.

"But of course." I beamed. We had just finished trekking the subway system, and had reached the station across the Super-Duper Mart. I looked around, up the river and down. This river had really been a landmark for me. It was the first time I'd really been prepared for the path ahead of me. All the time before, I'd been scrambling for ammo, almost starving, and lemme tell you, my piss was like fucking toothepaste.

But then, after I swam across that river, I knew that for what I was doing, who I was, and who I could be, I was doing pretty good. People were hearing about my tales, and there seemed to be...hope.

I smiled. I looked downriver, towards the Citadel. Then it hit me. If I could warn Elder Lyons about this, all the better. He'd believe me. He always did. When the world called me a fool, he called me wise.

If anyone would have better plan than me, it's him.

"Amata?" I called.

"What's up?" She answered. She was resting on a wall, tired from the walk.

"Minor detour. Remember the Citadel?"

"Yeah. I really loved looking at the wall." She jabbed at me.

"You have to give some tokens to them. Give some to recieve, you know?"

"Sure. I think you just didn't want me to embaress you with our pictures." She crossed her arms, hiding a smile.

"You know, I actually have to spend time with them. So them not knowing about my bad haircut is a really good thing." I glared at her playfully.

"Sure, whatever." She faked sobbing, wiping a crocodile tear. "It's like...it's like you...It's like you don't want people to know how much of a cuddler you are." She cracked up towards the end.

I sighed, still smiling. "Yeah, cause if people knew that the destroyer of the Enclave was a cuddler, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be as famous!"

"Yeah, and all you woudn't have all the gorgeous women in every town waiting on you hand and foot."

I hated it when she won out contests of wit. "Hey, Amata?"

"Yes?"

I instanty responded. "Shut up." She laughed and I caught her disease.

"Let's...let's go." I managed as I calmed down.

O

It didn't take long to reach the Citadel. And I wasn't worried about Hollow getting bored. I'm sure he has a hobby. But what kind of hobby could a guy like that have? Maybe he scares wastelanders. Or...he collects stuff? I have no clue.

As we approached the doormen, Bael began his normal routine. "No, you may not come..." Chances are, he opened his eyes and saw who it was.

"Yeah," I said, "I know. I'm dead. Look, can I talk to Elder Lyons?" The Paladin simply nodded and turned to the intercom. "Open the door."

The massive steel gate slowly raised, dust and debris dropping from it's bottom. The ancient machinery groaned like a man drawing a pail of water in the morning. It slid upwards, the only opening in the fort known as the Citadel. I was probably a sight for sore eyes. The Lone Wanderer, once again standing in front of the Citadel, dust clouding around me.

I stepped forward, not waiting for it to stop. Amata, still starstruck, snapped out of it. She hurried after me, and this time, the Paladins didn't stop her. As we walked in the courtyard, I looked at the trainees. Chances are, the one that were in training were now out on patrol. These new recruits were taking to it like fish to water though. They'd make great men and women one day.

But even their focus was stopped as they, one by one, looked at the two intruders. They started wispering to one another. Probably about who I was, and how I was back. They were excited. Maybe the workload would decrease.

Wrong.

If anything, Paladin Gunny would make them work harder. Now that I was back, they had something to live up to, a model. Speaking of the Devil, the man himself walked over.

"I suppose this is either heatstroke, or I sure as Hell know how to train 'em, don't I?" He extended a hand, and I gladly took it.

"You sure do." After a moment of respect, I added: "Give 'em Hell, Gunny."

He smiled cruelly, and turned toward the initiates. "Get back to your rounds! After that, fifty on your faces!" A few initiates sighed, other groaned, and a select few took it philosophically. I chuckled and continued on my way to the Bailey.

Everywhere I turned in the complex, heads turned. Used to be, they turned due to the outsider in their prescence. Now, it was because I was supposedly dead. I walked strongly, my back straight. In these dark times, people need heroes. And I've promised to be that hero, for the good and the bad, even if I have to die for it.

As I climbed down the Bailey I saw Elder Lyons standing in front of the ruins of Liberty Prime, recollecting on how all legends die. I stepped to his side.

"Lyons." I said to him. He slowly looked right. He'd aged a thousand years since I've been gone. But his eyes...the second they met mine, they lit up, like the eyes of a man half his age.

"Al...?"

"In the flesh."

He stood, speechless. He attended my funeral. He spoke on the man who was a son to him, and let him go, put him in the ground, suppressed the memories.

Now, I'm back.

"I don't...I can't..." He trailed off. I simply put my arms around him, pulled him in. He embraced me tightly, suprising for an old man. "It brings an old man hope to see you again, Al."

"If we give up that, then we're already dead. Despair is a great weapon. We can't let the Enclave use it."

O

Hollow sat on the lip of the concrete shell, leading into the cache. It was a stone's throw away from the Deathclaw Sanctuary, and he had a perfect view of it. The Enclave, for whatever reason, had deemed it worthwhile to built an outpost in elbow-knocking space of the fucking thing. However, Hollow had instantly cleared that eyesore out. That still left one issue.

The giant lizards that rested their hunt's heads in the cave.

Niether I or Hollow really wanted to go in there, and it did make our cache a well hidden spot. Why not hide a bed under the enemy's nose? Or...in this case, above it?

Now, normally, their just fine in there, hanging out, doing...whatever it is they do, but today, one decided to pop it's pretty face out. And Hollow was now bored. So, to kill time, he decided to try and do something he'd always dreamed about.

Taking one down...with a knife.

As he climed onto the rocky outcrop above it, he slowly, silently drew his combat knife. It looked around, as if adjusting to the light or even admiring the view. He looked down on it.

In it's own way, it was beautiful. It's tough hide could block up to 5mm rounds, and it could move fast enough to close the distance between a rifleman and it before the unlucky bastard could fire his weapon. It claws could easily rip through leather, and it was strong enough to knock a man off his feet. This is an almost-Apex Preadator we're talking about here.

Hollow was trying to rebuild his life. So now he's picky about his kills. But if he deems it necessary to kill, he is completely remorseless. He will track a man down across miles, and even if he's surrounded by allies, will take him down with no regard for himself. Hollow has survived as much punishment as me, maybe even more.

Hollow _is_ an Apex Predator.

He stood a jumped upwards, and as he reached the top of his arc, time almost stopped. Hollow knew that he could die. He could miss his mark, go to ground. The Deathclaw wouldn't show mercy. It'd claw out his spine, nip out his entrails.

He took in every detail. The heat of the sun on his body, the light and it's shadows on the creature, the whole landscape. The sound of his own breathing, the Deathclaw's, and his own steady heart.

Then, time resumed. As he dropped, he tightened his grip. Five seconds to impact. His entire physical form tensed. Four. His mind steeled itself in focus. Three. His emotions dulled to nothing. Two. The Deathclaw noticed something. One. It was far too late.

Hollow's massive weight crashed the creature to the ground, it roared in anger of the transgression. It tried to reach up to throw him off, but couldn't. Hollow wrapped his legs around the beast's neck, and grabbed it's horn. The predator bucked and slammed itself into walls, but Hollow's willpower was stronger than that.

He found an openeing, and took it. He slashed across the Deathclaw's underthroat, hard and fast. It almost didn't have time to react. At the losss of blood to it's primitive mind, it collapsed. Hollow stood up over it.

Their eyes met. The Deathclaw looked up at him, almost in repsect of his feat. Hollow simply stared, his brilliant gold visor, back down to it.

Hollow smiled beneath his mask, victory was his.

It never stood a chance.

O (I know I haven't done this in a long time, but I'd really like you to play a song while read this. It's "I was lost without you". Look it up. It's a Mass Effect 3 OST.)

We'd meet back in a week or so, Lyons and me. We'd formulate plans, then come back when I'd ran through our stolen Enclave intel, seen what they're exactly up to. The Vault, as Amata and I both knew, was capable of locking down in an instant. The door that couldn't be blasted or pried open would roll into place, and then they would wait in the crevice until the danger either went away or died.

Except of course for the Master code. Handed down by each Overseer since the bombs fell, it would override any protocol the Vault had. Including maximum shutdown.

And Amata knew it by heart.

I had to admit, Amata was handling all this very well. Much better than the last time. However, that was my fault. I was not being very warm to her, or forgiving. Especially seeing as how I'd been in her same situation not five years ago. I was proud of her.

She was talking about something involving Elder Lyons when I noticed two people sitting on the bench, a man and woman, expressing their feelings for one another in an oral fashion. The woman was sitting in his lap, and he had her arm around her waist.

Except one thing was off. The woman had blonde hair, hair I recognized. A memory surfaced of my hand running through that hair, the strands soft, silky, with her warmth against me.

Sarah Lyons.

And she was kissing another man.

Anger, malice, a fire burned inside of me. But my willpower and self-control smothered it. This was expected, I told myself. She'd move on. Being beautiful and young, she'd have men lapping at her heels. She was completely entitled to another person. I died. Six months is long enough.

Then I heard her giggle. A sound that was reserved only for _me_. It was _my_ giggle.

Sure, she could move on to another. But that didn't mean I had to like it.

But my feet were glued. While one side of me was an inferno for seeing my love like that, another side of me was in shellshock. I had atleast figured, it'd take more time to get over what we had.

In my pause, the man opened his eyes, and stopped defiling her. He mouthed something, all I could her was a high-pitched whine, and Sarah turned around and brushed her ponytail off her shoulder. Her eyes met mine. Blue versus brown. I didn't know how my eyes looked. Either betrayed or murderous.

She just looked...I can't place it. Confusion with sadness. And fear.

She pushed herself off of him, as if trying to mitigate the damage. Too late. She walked over, her mouth quivering. She put a hand on my chest as if to ensure I was even real.

"Al..." She gasped.

"Sarah." I said. She gasped again and pulled herself onto me, hugging me. I almost broke right then. To feel her again...it was right. Like everything up until now was a nightmare, and she was there when I woke up, and everything's better.

But I knew it wasn't.

"Sarah, who's this?" Her man said. He looked a little pissed that his lady was hugging me. Fuck off. I had her first.

"Gary, this is Al Sorenson. The Lone Wanderer." She said. His name was Gary? I could hear the sounds of Vault 108 rushing back to me. All the Garys screaming and charging me. I shivered a little in my boots.

"I thought he was dead. And that he had less hair on his face."

I glared. "They don't really give you a mirror and a razor in the Box." I said to him sharply.

He was about to retort, when Sarah interuppted him. "Al, I'm sorry...I didn't know you..." She was at a loss. She was torn between me and him. She didn't have boyfriends before, so this was as new to her as it was to me.

I held my tongue. I wanted to tell her off, scold her for losing faith, but I didn't. I resisted. "It's...it's fine. I wasn't here for six months." I lied through gritted teeth. "You were completely entitled to...to him." I grabbed an iron bar for support. My anger was flooding back into my veins.

"Al...I didn't know..." She said. And he moved, putting an arm around her waist, as if claiming her for himself.

Let me tell you, it took every little ounce of strength, control, and willpower not to go beserk right there. I had to tiwst and turn my head to avoid kiling him. Smashing his bones to dust. Grinding his flesh into the concrete.

"You...You...You enjoy what you have...with this...this," I wanted to call him bastard. A thousand vulgarities came to mind. A million insults. "With your new..._boyfriend_." I spit the last word out. I let go of the bar, and breathing like an animal, stormed my way out, a darkness around me.

Amata looked at the bar I had held onto. It was bent and twisted, a show of my strength and rage. She nervously jogged up behind me.

I left the Citadel. My teeth bared against the sun, my fists white with pressure. I could feel my eyes almost out of my skull. I wanted to hurt something. I wanted to kill, to release the fire of my heart. To show how powerful I was.

We headed North, towards the super-duper mart. I imagine that Raiders had taken it over by now. I smiled.

Easy kills.


	13. Vengeance and (Lima) Whiskey

Hey guys. I know I said Super-Duper Mart in the last chap, but I've decided to change up the plot a bit, speed things along. In the original plot that would've happened, I was being very unfair to Sarah, much as I was to Amata back in Forgiven. So it's being changed for time's sake and for continuity.

O

I marched onwards from the Citadel, away from the heartbreak. I wanted to run from it. I wasn't used to it, I didn't know how to handle it. So rather than become sad and hopeless, my mind chose to focus on a single point.

Gary.

Brown-haired fucker. I wanted to run back to the Citadel gates, tearm them down, and use them to smash that thief into pulp. To rip and tear until anyone even remembers who he is. To reclaim what I own.

Instead, I was walking away from the woman I loved, letting her sit on his lap and giggle. Just the thought of them makes me sick. Sarah and Gary, Gary and Sarah. Not me and Sarah. Not Sarah and me.

My mind forced images of them locking lips, his putrid ones on her pure ones. His grubby fingers groping her skin. Scenes of them cuddling, her hand rubbing his bare chest. Him peeling off whatever clothes with his teeth.

THe thought made me want to vomit. Or cry. Or...punch a kitten. Or something. Fuck!

I didn't think I was the jealous type. But I suppose I am. I figured if the new person made them happy, that was all that mattered. But this wasn't a break up. I was still invested in what we lost. I was damn kidnapped!

No. By the end of today, blood would be spilled. That primal side of me that declared its dominion over Sarah demanded blood for this dire transgression. I was a hyper-lethal force when I was calm.

You can only imagine me love-scorned.

O

Jericho walked towards the Old Springvale Elementary. Stockholm spotted some Raiders setting up shop there. Now that I didn't live there, Megaton was once again on the raiding market.

He walked, rifle in hand, steeling his nerve and steadying his aim. No one else enough expierience to be any help. Since I'd more or less cleaned the Capitol Wasteland up, people didn't bother with target practice.

Not Jericho. Normally, he'd do this with Lucas or I, but since both of us were dead, he was alone. Stockholm needed to stay and defend.

As he neared the wall, he slowed and lowered. He peered around the edge. Four Raiders. Two using ARs, one a 10mm pistol, the third a sledgehammer. Definetly more inside. He pondered on whether or not to wait. He chose against it, having the element of suprise.

And it's best to just jump back in the saddle.

He turned the corner and slugged the Blastmaster with 5.56 rounds. It turned his exposed chest into hamburger meat. He screamed and fell over the edge, out of sight on the outer side of the School.

The other three turned and unleashed vengeacne for the compatriot. Jericho slid back, dodging the worst of it. Once they stopped to reload, he turned the corner, only ot find that the hammer-wielding Raider was faster than he thought.

He jumped backwards, the hammer only grazing his chest. He stumbled, caught himself on the broken windowsill. In perfect view of the rifleman. He felt three thuds on his side, and a dull pain. He spun, bringing his rifle to bear. It was too late. Another few rounds landed into his left arm, exposed.

He twisted around, falling to the ground. He groaned in agony, unable to move without fire in his stomach. He twisted his head to see the hammer raise up, the Raider similing cruelly.

So this is how it ends for Jericho. Years of survival, a fraction spent on reforming himself. The friends he'd made, the ones he lost...

Perhaps this was just Karma for all the wrongs he did.

Or maybe it was rewarding him with life as shotgun pellets tore into the Raider. It sent him back with the sheer force, the hammer dropping near Jericho's leg. He sighed in relief, and let the air back into his lungs.

I leapt over him, firing off two more shells into the downed Raider. His chest was ground beef, and thouroghly dead. I felt 5.56 bullets uselessly thud against my back, and slammed it into the wall. I took aim between the two gunmen, and fired for the maximum effect.

The pistoleer was the frist to run. Limping slightly, he jumped off the ledge and into the school. The rifleman stayed, thinking that firepower would save him. How wrong he was. I blasted at his leg, and it broke just below the knee. He tumbled towards me, I stepped out of cover.

He tried to point his gun at me, but I kicked it away. I glared at him, and I saw his fear. Then the look of a man who faces his death. I reared my leg back, then swung it. _CRACK!_ I looked back down, at his head. His neck, twisted at on odd and impossible angle, had vertebrae sticking out.

I hopped down to the ledge and kicked open the door. I flew into the darkness, and landed on the pistoleer. The next victim ran into the shadows, thinking it would save him. I was raised in a Vault. Shadows are nothing to me.

The pistoleer tried to crawl from under the door, but I jumped up onto it. He cried out in pain and fear, and even began to cry. My adrenaline and rage fueled mind writhed in the disgust over this pathetic excuse for a warrior. I put him out of his misery with a buckshot to the spinal cord.

The next Raider, the runner, heard the screams. And when he saw me cross the corner, his fear forced him to freeze, rather than fight or flight.

I tossed my shotgun, catching it on the stock. I held it like a baseball bat, picked up my pace, and reared my club back. I spun on my heel, swinging the gun with tremendous force. I saw the shotgun move, his eyes widen in fear. He tried to back up, away from the pain, but he had no chance.

He had his chance to move, to escape, but he wasted it. Perhaps he thought I'd be merciful. Perhaps like the man I was before I saw my Sarah being groped by that pig. But no. Maybe you think I'd feel something bad. Maybe guilt. A mix of anger and sadness for my brutality?

No. I just felt so powerful. This was half a decade of repressed anger and swallowed emotions releasing itself from a dark corner of my mind.

The drum connected squarely on his jaw, and he piroutted like a dancer. Blood and teeth flew backwards, and he gurgled and moaned from his broken jaw. He landed heavily, limp. I think I broke his neck. Not enough to kill him, but to paralyze.

_Mercy_

Did I think that? Or did he say it? I don't know. Maybe that last shred of me who wants to save everyone did it. What it wants is for me to waste stimpacks on him. I smile. My wrathful mind thinks of a different form of mercy.

I make sure he sees my eyes. I lift my massive boot, raise my arms, and gain the maximum force as I slam it down onto his bloody face. I chuckled a little bit. I marched forward, smelling my next kill.

I am now an instrument of violence, a vessel of invincibility. This determination is a vital part of me. I was to show no quarter. I'll just count them with the endless masses that I have defeated.

_Break them down till their hope has died, b__eat them down until victory's mine! _My mind cries. I smiled. I'm one with the warrior inside now. My dominance in the art of war can't be denied.

As I look upon them through the killer's eyes, I can see the fear that will ensure my victory. I can't be told to compromise this hate I feel. To allow my Sarah to be violated.

I have no need of any guidance in my wake. I am a living, breathing weapon, powerful beyond belief. I never need to question how to defeat my enemies, either Harkin or Gary. When I'm done with either of them, my name, my ferocity will be spoken of long after I'm dust in the wind.

"Don't hide now. Act like a warrior. Show your pride! Are you Raiders or pussies?" I shout into the darkness, my voice rumbling the entire building. I stand before these fools with a true warrior's heart. I can feel the strength, the cruelty that will ensure my victory.

I round the corner, see a door. I pull a grenade from my hip. I pull the pin with my teeth, roll it to the door. I sidestep to the corner I was just at, await the blast. Light flashes, shrapnel lands in the wall opposite me. I twist around it again. I see a single raider, blastmaster.

He's big. Not as big as me, but big. He holds a long, sharp knife in his hand. He smiles, flicks his head in my direction. I march forward, a deathclaw closing in on the brahmin. I pass the blown apart door.

I see two flicks in my vision. I don't react fast enough, my back meeting wall. Two men hold me against it, legs braced against the floor. Despite my hate, all my strength, I can't rip myself from their grip. No matter how hard I twist or retch, I can't break free.

"Can't believe you actually fell for that." The raider said. I growled, tried launching myself, but the two men were undaunting. He twirled the knife in his fingers, smiling.

He slid the edge down the side of my face, leaned in close. I could smell his stink. "You've killed some good men of mine. First one was free, he was a shit eater anyway." He lowered the knife, and I felt and heard it slide down my armor.

Pressed the tip to my side, which wasn't covered by the combat armor. "The other four though...well, let's just say this is gonna hurt."

He slowly, forcefully, pressed the tip in. It cut clean through the fabric, dug into the skin. I gritted my teeth as I felt the first inch sink in to my side. I groaned, screwing my eyes shut as it went further. Blood soaked the farbic around the wound, ran down some along the blade.

Just before I gave into the pain and was about to scream, it stopped. The blade slid out of me, and I gasped in pain. The bastard fell to the floor, a mist of red in the air. A perfect bullet hole in the side of his head.

"Holy sh-" Was all one man had time to say before another two entered him. One in his chest, the second, mot likely due to the shooter not waiting to level their aim, went into his neck.

The third managed to back away and begin to draw his sawn-off, but a round hit his hand. He looked up, and another 10mm went into his upper forehead.

I slid down the wall, sitting next to the knife which glanged to the floor. "Al! Are you ok?" I heard Amata yell as bootsteps came toward me, growing louder.

"Oh god...you're bleeding bad!" She said. _No shit_. I wanted to say it, but the situation was stressful enough. I held my hand to my side, trying to keep pressure. With my free left hand, I reached into my side satchel. It's where I kept my stimpacks.

I pulled one out, and removed my hand. I quickly jabbed myself, stung due to the force. The minor anesthetic numbed the worst of it though. Amata was fussing over me. I pushed her back a bit. Not to be mean, but I needed some air.

I tried lifting myself, but the pain flared, even under the painkiller. I groaned again, breathed heavily. After I regained my composure, I looked to see a hand offered to me. Amata standing over me, a sad smile on her face.

I smiled back, took her hand. The fire in my heart had drained with the blood it pumped. She helped me up, and I tried to stand up tall, like a hero would. My side inflamed, and I stumbled slightly. After that, Amata quickly hoisted my arm over her shoulder.

"Amata, it's ok, I'm fine."

"Obviously not." She replied curtly.

"Damn it..." I said, resigning myself to the fate I was dealt. We made our way back. I was completely disgusted by myself at what I'd did. All the slaughter...it was never a fight. My skills, my speed, my strength...they never stood a chance.

I tried to think. What could make me do this? All of this pain, the fear, just because my girlfirend is with another guy? No. It shouldn't be this way. No one should be able to control the way I feel like that. I can't let my emotions get in the way.

I have to do what's best for everyone else.

We finally made it out, in silence. I was ashamed of what I'd done, she was horridied by it. I lifted myself from her shoulders. She tried to make it seem like she wasn't fazed at all by my mass, but I could tell from the relief in her shoulders. I joged around the corner to where an old friend lay.

Jericho wasn't bleeding as badly as before. It must've been Amata who'd performed first aid before coming to save my ass. He ws next to unconscious, and needed more attention. I put his arm over my shoulder now, and Amata took the other side. We lifted him, with a string of expletives from him in thanks.

"Shit...Jesus. Great. A couple fuckin' kids manage to off me. Fuck..." He muttered.

"What do you mean?" Amata asked.

"Well, shit seen' as how Al is right here, I must be dead. Guess I did enough good shit to get into Heaven though. So where's the seventy-two virgins?"

I laughed. "That's Islamism. You're a Catholic, I believe, Jericho."

"Oh...well the fuck do I get then?"

"I don't know. Plus, I wouldn't bet on you getting into Heaven just yet. I'm not dead, niether are you." I grabbed his arm a little too tight to give him a pinch. He yelled at me in a sting.

"Ow! A damn it..."

O

Once we made it into Megaton, Amata and I were quickly booted by the town's doctor, claiming a headache. I took Amata's hand and led her to my place. I then realized that I left Dogmeat in there, before I was kidnapped. I really hope someone let him out.

Once made it up the stairs, and not without a few confused glances, I reached for my keyring. I flipped it to where my house key would've been. Except it wasnt't.

I lowered my hands. Thought of where it could be. I figured it's have to be someone trustworthy. That counted alot of people out. Left the doctor, Jericho(?), and Gob. I almost hit myself as I figured it had to be Gob.

I told Amata to wait here. I had to go see some old friends. I walked across the metal, my footfalls clanging against it. The smell of the air, heavy and stale. Eveything was exactly as I remembered it. I couldn't help but smile.

As I neared the building, I heard a muffled dog's bark. I knew it anywhere. Dogmeat! My chest soothed as I realized that someone would have the sense to take care of the old boy. I pushed open the door to the saloon, and the ghoul looked up from his task. He looked back down, but quickly did a double take.

"Oh no fuckin' way..." He mumbled in his gravely voice. "Naw...no."

"Who is..." Nova said, before looking over to see for herself. "...it? Can't be...no way..."

I held up my arms, shrugging. Dogmeat leaped up onto me, his paws on my chest. "Good to see you guys too." I rubbed my dog' ears with one hand, holding him up with the other.

"Al..." Gob began. "You're back..."

"Yeah...I am."

"Then...it's a damned miracle..."

I glared, my smile turning itself down. "I'm back because _I_ survived. No gods, just man."

Nova laughed. "That just proves it's him!" Gob smiled, chuckled with her.

"Where were you?" He asked of me. I opened my mouth, but I simply couldn't find the words. I pictured this story in my mind. _Well guys, see, I had just came back from the Pitt in a check-up, when I got ambushed by an Enclace hit squad. Then, once I offed them, some guy clonked me from behind. I spent the next six months in prison, wasting away in mind and body. Then, my silent friend Hollow helped me bust out, then took like a month to de-brainwash me. Amata and I are now trying to figure out what to do against the Enclave, because they've occupied Vault 101 now._

_Oh, and Sarah has a new boyfriend named Gary. Yeah. Fucking Gary._

"Long story. We'll have drinks over it later. Right now, I need my house key. Now. Like...right now."

Gob scarmbled on his pockets for it. His jaw dropped, his eyes widended. "Aw fuck...I think I gave it to Billy Creel."

"Where is he?"

"I'm not sure. But I think he sold it to Moira Brown."

I rolled my neck, my eye twitched. "So you're telling me I have to find them, interrogate them, and follow up on the people they tell me to?"

"Naw, I'm just fuckin' with you." He pulled a lone key from his pocket, and handed it to me. "Here you go."

I balled up my fist, tightened my lips, and tensed. "I'm...I'm gonna pay you back for this."

"Sure, whatever beardy." I pointed at him, backed up out of the saloon. I heard he and Nova laugh a little. I wanted to kill them, but what Gob said irked me. Beardy?

I felt up to my chin, waiting for the ring around my mouth. What I found was not that. It was more a soup soaker. Fuck! How had I let my rougish goatee devolve into this disgrace?

I continued to run my hand down it as my hound and I walked back to our home. Amata sat on the chair across from the door with her slender legs crossed. She smiles as she leans forward for the dog to sniff her hand.

"What'cha thinkin' 'bout?" She asked perkily.

"What?"

"Well, you're doing the beard stroke thing. I just figured..." She made the motion of running her hand over her chest.

The corner of my mouth turned down. "Very funny." I unlocked the door, puched it open. Clicked my tongue for Dogmeat to come along. He obeyed, and followed me inside.

God...it felt so good to step here again. I laid a hand on my table. I slid it across, dust picking up on my hand. I looked at my shelves. One of the books was askew. I leaned and correct it. I smiled at my Nuka Cola truck. I rolled it a little, then patted it. I backe up into the corner, and plopped down into the chair. I sank into it, sighing, smiling.

Home's where your heart is.

"Wow...you know, last time, I never got a chance to look around. I was just so confused..."

I sat up, elbows on my knees. "Take your time. I've gotta shave off this mess."

"I dunno. You like facial hair on you. Keep it."

"No, with my goatee, it was rougish and charming. With this, it makes me look way too old."

She _pffted_. "With those eyes of yours? You look old enough to be my dad." At that remark, she reversed her mood. All this time, she'd ignored the obvious fact. If she wasn't there, who knows what was happening to the Vault Dwellers?

I stood, placed a hand on her small shoulder. "Hey. Look. We'll save them. All of them." It was a lie. I knew it. Anyone who tried to resist would be killed. I think she sensed that.

"You know damn well that's a lie. You've said it yourself. No matter how hard you fight...sometimes you can't save everyone."

"Amata...it's a hard truth, I know. One I've learned time and time again. You can choose to fight on, or give up. But you can't do nothing and give up, becasue then everyone dies. You have to stay strong. Fight for yourself, fight for revenge. Fight for your loved ones, or fight for the sake of everyone else.

"Whenever you have to use that pistol again," I patted the 10mm on her hip, "Just think of everyone who's died at the Enclave's hands. Let their deaths stengthen you. Make sure that their sacrifice isn't in vain."

"Al...I don't know. I'm not used to this. Everyone always calls you the hero. How do you do it?"

"Amata...hard times don't make heroes. Hard times are just when heroes appear most often. A hero is a man who finds the strength to overcome any obstacle, any pain. Just a man who can hang on for one more minute, be brave for one more minute.

"All I can do is what I can do. No matter what's behind me or in front of me, the doubts and questions I face, or how small and weak and helpless I feel, I just have to keep trying. You just have to keep marching forward, whther or not there's a light at the end of the road. A hero doesn't have to be undeafeted, believe me. Just undaunted."

Amata leaned into me, head on my shoulder. I felt her arms snake around me. "Well...where do you get your strength?"

A question asked a million times. "I get my strength from my heart. No Gods. Just me. I fight so that no one else has to."

"Living like that can't be easy."

"It's never easy. Hell, every day I either wish I could quit, or that I was never born at all. But I'll always try and save the world. Because in the end...I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

She pushed herself off of me, still her arms on my shoulders. "Thank you. I'll...I'll try."

"It's all I can ask of you."

O

Amata was downstairs, thinking of what I'd said. I never thought myself too good at speeches, but pretty good with advice. I got a drink from the butler, who annoyingly told me that I had been absent for almost eight months. Like I didn't know.

I sat at my desk, pulling over the radio. I tuned it to the signal Hollow and I agreed on.

"Hotel Mike, this is Lima Whiskey, do you copy?"

I waited for ten seconds. I gave another five. I tried again.

"Hotel Mike, this is Lima Whiskey, do you copy?"

Another ten seconds passed. I cursed. Maybe he wasn't in-

_Tap-tap-tap tap-tap tap._

I heard it. Given that Hollow couldn't speak, he just tapped. I smiled.

"Hotel Mike, glad to hear you."

_Tap-tap._

"Lima Whiskey and Victor Delta Alpha have moved to Golf Zeta, I repeat, Golf Zeta. Lima Whiskey requests that Hotel Mike brings the Hotel Delta with him."

_Tap tap-tap._

"Good. Safe travels, Hotel Mike. Over and out." I hung up the reciever and leaned back. Now Hollow was oh his way. Chances are, it'd take him five hours without any delays. That meant I had some time to relax, and more importantly to shave.

I stood up to go downstairs and I saw Amata, an eyebrow in question. "What the fuck did I just hear?"

I laughed a little. "Just me and Hollow."

She grew an annoyed look. "What did you say?"

"Hotel Mike, this is-"

"No, what did it mean!?" She snapped. I held up my hands in mock surrender.

"It's just code. In case someone's listening. We have it encyrpted and we use code so it makes it twice a hard for anyone to see through it."

"Well...what was Victor Delta Alpha?"

"You." Confusion. "Victor Delta Alpha=Vault Dweller Amata. Me and Hollow talked about this."

"So you are...?"

"Lima Whiskey=Lone Wanderer. Hotel Mike=Hollow Man."

"I get it. And Hotel Delta must be the...the hard drive?"

I smiled. "Right. Anyone who may listen will just thinks it's some pre-war re-run. Anyone who's that smart...well, to be honest, we haven't found anyone like that yet."

"Alright. So...aren't you gonna give me the grand tour?" She shoved her hands towards the door.

"Right this way, please keep all extremities where I can see them at all times."


	14. The Price of Benevolence

Hey guys. Let's begin.

O

I sat down at my lab, not eager for what I'd have to do. I'd just finished showing Amata around my home, a fun little tour I didn't get to do often enough. I then fed us, Amata and Dogmeat, and then she nearly passed out on my downstairs table. I helped her up to my bed, and let her sleep. I shaved, trimming the scrangy thing with a combat knife, then using a razor for the rest. I looked like...well, the good ol' Lone Wanderer again.

So now I had to complete the self matinence. I picked at the polymer on my hand, and it slowly peeled away. WHen I was done, all that was left was an inside-out hand, and the horrible monstrosity that was now my hand.

The way it's set up is few inches above my wrist is where they amputated. The main case, which connects to my brain and rest of my body, is on my forearm. The hand is detachable, for matinence, damage, or other purposes. The hand itself is the most complicated. A whole mess of metal and a few wires and hydralics. But it works the same as an organic hand. But I do get phantom pains sometimes. You never get used to the feeling.

I'm not saying that it's less useful. It's an improvement, really. The robotic appendage was almost impossible to break, had a grip that could snap a femur in two, but still agile and delicate enough to type on a computer or repair a gun.

But it was an improvement I didn't ask for. My real hand wasn't broken. It was fine. THey only did it because I was expendable. Just a cadaver for them to discard. But what else did they do? They have those mind control devices for the deathclaws...

No. Deathclaws are mindless beasts. They couldn't do that to me.

I finish gawking at my hand, and place the old "glove" off to the side. I twist off the hand, set it on the device I'd rigged up. I figured out the recipe they used to make the polymer a few years ago, and I still use it. Not for me. I've come to terms with it. Mostly. But It's a pretty well-kept secret. Not too many others know.

But the device I have is sort of a dipping machine. I set it on, flip it, and it sets the hand in for the time it takes for the polymer to solidify. Easy-peasy. But that leaves that uncomfortable moment where I'm forced to recognize that ugly metal stump on my arm.

I lean back as the timer ticks away. I cross my arms in an attempt not to look at it, but feeling it is even worse. I take it out from my underarm, and set my right arm on my lap. I stare down at it and sigh.

Everything I've done...I've sacrificed so much, my family, some friends, my health, and now literally a piece of me, and what to I get? I fake hand made by my enemies, one that could go Terminator on my John Connor in the middle of the night, torture at the hands of an extreme reformist, not to mention all the emotional scars I have due to the countless atrocities I've seen, and my girl getting stolen by some brown-haired prick.

Being the good guy's fucking sweet, lemme tell 'ya.

I sigh again, and Dogmeat props his head on my lap. I smile, pat him. Boy knows how to cheer me up. "Thanks boy." I say to him. Those two miscolored eyes shine at my approval. "At least someone appreciates the shit I do." He sits up and licks my hand. I let him.

"Oh no Al, I just love you cause you taste good. If you die, I'm totally gonna eat you!" I mock for him in a dopey, lower tone, trying to put his thoughts into words.

"Thank you for your loyalty and support." I say mocking back at myself. I chuckle at my own humor, and he put his head back down. Shuts his eyes. _Is pretty late_, I think. Chances are, Hollow will be here by morning time. Everyone needs sleep, right?

I stand up, suprising my dog. I apologize to him, and walk over to the more comfy chair on the other side of the balcony. I grab a scotch from my vending machine, because really, why I would I keep only Nuka-Cola's in there, and sit back down in the soft, pink chair.

I replaced the other one, damn thing was on its last legs. I slouched and took a long swig from the bottle, and Dogmeat took his place at my feet. And I felt...fine. For once in the last few days, I felt like everything was right with the world. LIke I could just take a break from adventuring, sit back and enjoy the spoils of my endeavors.

I smiled, and knew that that day could never come so long as Harkin still drew breath. Hell, given my track record, it may well never come. So I figure I gotta enjoy the moments that I do get like this.

I shifted a little more, raising my arms for a little extra warmth. I let that feeling slip me into a sleep.

O

_Wasteland. Little past noon. Armored Jumpsuit on me. Hunting rifle on my back. Walking. A few shots. A scream. I'm running. I cross the hill, panting. See a group. Continue running._

_Clarity. _

_I slide into a wall, nearby where I can set my rifle on a broken windowsill. Lean over to see the targets. Three raiders. One wastelander. Female. I see her on the ground, and it takes me a few seconds to realize what I've stumbled onto._

_A rape. That special kind of evil._

_See the largest of them behind her, a dirty fucker, driving her into the ground, probably skinning her knees, arms and face. I see the other man laughing, playing with her exposed breasts. I see the third, a woman, forcing the vicitim to keep her eyes open, to see what's happening to her._

Take the shot_, I think. _Take it._ End her misery, and their lives. _

_But I didn't. I just sat there and watched, mesmerized. It's not like I hadn't seen this before. The Vault had porn. Not anything too wild, your basic "Pizza guy/Pool boy and the housewife" kind of thing. But I'd never seen or done the real deal. I was nineteen, so this was inconceivable to me._

_And I just sat there until the first guy was finished, and then realized what I'd just seen _wasn't _a holotape. It was a real, live rape. A crime. And I'd just stood by with my finger up my ass and my hand on my dick._

_I stood, and offed the biggest one with a clean head shot. He fell off to the side, and the second man looked up, horrified. I remember that face. Because it was only gore the next._

_The woman managed to take a few steps before I shot her. But it wasn't a clean kill, just a leg shot. I ran over and popped a round into her with my 10mm._

_I then, reluctantly, turned to the bigger problem. The victim. She stood up, slowly, afraid that I'd mimic the raiders. I held up my hands, and she seemed to calm down. I didn't have the will not to look. I saw a bit of blood running down her leg._

_She took an uneasy step towards me, I took a large one back. SHe looked over left. I followed. A man, wearing a brahmin-skin outfit, but missing a head. I looked, and saw a ring, an honest-to-God ring on his finger. And a matching one one her finger._

_They were married._

_I tried to say something, but couldn't. I had no fucking clue on what to say. But she had an idea of what to do. She pointed at my 10mm. I pulled it out. I flipped it towards her. She stepped up. I let her take it._

_I closed my eyes before the shot._

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

O

I jumped up slightly in my chair scared. Dogmeat was also up, and heading towards the door, barking. I realized that someone must've just knocked, and my mind put it into the dream. Heh. More like a nightmare.

"Coming, coming!" I said, and clumsily made my way down. I unlocked the door, opened just so that Dogmeat couldn't get out, and checked who it was.

A clipboard filled my view. "Hollow's special delivery service" written on it. I smiled, opened it the fully way. Hollow stood before me, holding the hard drive. I let him in, took the valuable data from him, and saw him squat down to pet Dogmeat. A low rumbling came from him, and Dogmeat panted happily.

"It's been an exciting day for the ol' boy." I said. Hollow half-mindedly nodded. I smiled, and went up to plug the hard drive into my computer. I set the data to download, and returned to me guest.

"Amata's passed out. Long day for both of us." Hollow nodded in agreement. I checked the time. 3am. "Want me to fill you in?" Hollow shook his head, made a yawning motion to respond. Sleep now, talk later. "Agreed. I'll get you something to lay on."

I carried a bedroll underarmed to him. I caught him pulling on a shirt, having changed into something that he could sleep in. He had cargo pants and a tight t-shirt on. He looked up at me, rubbed the back of his head. I understood his plight. When you wear something long enough, it becomes hard to part with. I laid the bedroll down without a word, and he nodded his gratitude.

I figured that my hand was ready, and went to check. I pinched the polymer, and felt that it was solid but gave a little. Perfect. I reattached it and gave my fingers a flex, making a wave. I nodded, satisfied with the "Glove".

I went back to my pink chair. I took one last look at Hollow. Dogmeat and he were sort of sharing the bedroll. It was cute, seeing the huge fellow almost being evicted by the hound. But as I got comfortable in my bubble of wamrth, I shuddered at the nightmare that could await me, and I picked up the almost-full bottle. I downed the entire thing, three gulps. I almost went for another.

O

I woke up calmly this time. My slumber had been dreamless, thankfully, and I yawned, smacking my lips, getting some moisture in my mouth. I stretched like a dog, and stood, scratching an itch. That's when my ears told me someone was rummaging through my fridge. Without thinking, I began to sneak down. Pistol out, I rounded the corner, then recognized the petite female form.

Just Amata. I stood and holstered my gun. Then mentally smacked myself. Who else could it've been?

"Morning." I said. She seemed to jump a little, turned towards me, looking over her shoulder.

"Oh, hey! Was just kinda...looking to see if I could...I dunno...make breakfest or something?" I smiled.

"Geez, look who turned from a badass to a housewife in one night." She blushed a tad, then smiled sheepishly.

"I was looking to suprise you." She turned all the way, shrugging. "At least _one_ of us was suprised."

"Yeah. But hey, it was a nice thought, but you're not gonna find anything too good in there. Not enough for the American Breakfest at least."

"I just hoped that the big, world walking, legendary Lone Wanderer would've found some frozen bacon or something." She ribbed me.

"Very funny." This was like old times. Before my dad up and left. We'd have some back and forth, but she'd always win. She let me win a few, but I always figured she had an ace in the hole. Still, it was endless fun. I reached past her pulled out three Punga fruits.

"Trust me, it's edible." I said in regards to her horrified expression.

"Are you sure...It's like...yellow?" I nodded. "If you say so. But you're taking the first bite." I chuckled, and handed her one. I was glad she was accepting it so well. Suprising, really. It took me longer to adjust. I guess because she has a guide. I was shooting in the dark.

We went to the table with out food. I bit into mine, juices running down onto the table. It had a semi-sweet flavor. I chewed and swallowed the pulpy thing and looked up at her expectantly. I caught her gawking, twisting the Punga like it was some alien artifact.

"Go on. It's not gonna bite." I smiled. She smiled back, still unsure. I quickly, silently added: "At least I hope not." She glared at me. I laughed a little, and in defiance, she took a chunk out of it. Juices spilled down the front of her jumpsuit, and she pulled away like it was a grenade. I tried to hide my glee as she tried to pat it off. I think she heard me trying to hide laughing as she gave me a death glare.

It was then I lost it, letting my head fall and my shoulder shake. "It's not funny!" She yelled.

"Yes it is!" I retorted. And then even she saw the humor, and laughed. After we calmed down, I shook my head and finished off my piece, and started on the other. She barely finished hers, slowly and carefully.

After we were done, I could tell she was thinking. "What is it?"

"Oh, nothing." I gave her a look, and she caved instantly. I learned how to read people in the Wasteland, but I learned how to read her when I was fifteen. "It's...yesterday, when you..."

I already knew. My massacre. "I'm...not happy that you saw that. It's...not like me." She nodded. I continued. "It's just...seeing that prick with Sarah...you saw the way they held each other? Do you know how long it took me to get her comfortable enough to even put my arm over her shoulder? Or just to hold hands for a while? Months. I put all that work into her, and now, just as I get her ready to cuddle, that bastard swoops in while I'm in the box and steals her.

"I mean, for fuck's sake...I get it, me supposedly dying was hard for her, but I at least hoped I'd get a year of mourning, maybe two...but six months? A real ego-booster, lemme tell 'ya."

She frowned for me. "Yeah, tell me about it." I cringed. I forgot for a moment that Amata and I used to be a thing as well. I really treated her like shit the last time she was out of the vault. But this time, I'm gonna make up for it.

"Sorry..."

"Oh, no, it's fine. Really." She said. A silence descended on us.

I broke it. "I'm gonna go check on a few things. Hollow, the data. You know?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be around here..." She looked for something to do, and picked a book from my shelf. I stepped up the stairs, and found Hollow helping himself to a water bottle. He nodded, and drank half of it.

"Hey. We uh...we need to check your..." I mentioned. He nodded, touched his neck. Turned and sat in the chair closest to him. I kneeled down, started probing his throat. Since the injury, he'd been mostly incapable of speech. He could say a few words, but not without a lot of pain.

But it could heal. Over time. And from what I felt, it was definetly healing. I took a moment to check on his face. He seemed zoned out, thinking or just uncomfortable with me touching him. I think it's the former. He had a slight five o'clock shadow on him. Other than that, he seemed fine.

His face was alot more block-shaped than mine. A harder chin line, slightly lower cheekbones. Gave him a harder look. I patted his shoulder as I stood. "Seems alright. Just needs more time to heal." He nodded, his face melancholy. That was the standard response after each check. I walked over to the terminal, logged on. The data had copied on.

I skimmed over the plans. Contingency Routine A-56. There was a standard list, then from then on it seemed to be Harkin's personal log. A lot of gloating on how he'd fooled Amata, and how he'd "Bested" the Lone Wanderer. Bullshit. But a few things stuck out. Apparently he hadn't followed protocol on step two. The genocidal one. Strange.

Possible value in Vault Dwellers. Engineering? No, Enclave bases are much more advanced, any grunt could run the Vault as well as Stanley or someone else could. Soldeirs? I did clear out their crawler, and that held an entire batallion. No. Step three and four is getting more Enclave to the base. The Dwellers would be a waste of space and recources in any other case. Then..what is it?

Oh fuck me. Human shields. He knows that the Brotherhood, the only ones capable of opposing the Enclave, are too good to shoot innocent civillians. And he made the mistake of not killing me. So he does consider me rejoining the game as a possibility. And I know I won't shoot any Vault Dweller. Not even Butch, or that bitch Suzie Mack.

Very smart. Cunning. If I was in his position, it's the same thing I'd have done. Also if I was a lunatic. But I can no longer consider him a grunt, or a pompous desk general. He's exploiting my weaknesses. I'm gonna have to change my own game if I want to win.

But how? Hmm...no time for that now. I have to get this info to the Brotherhood.

O

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The second Hollow, Amata, and I arrived at the Citadel, we were ushered in, not questions asked. I jogged ahead into the courtyard, looking for someone who could debrief me. No one would tell me anything. Just "Head to the infirmary."

Oh crap. Who is hurt? Please let it be Gary.

I ran towards B ring, and the crowd of Brothers parted for me. The two Paladins guarding the door let me through, and what I found shocked me.

Elder Lyons lying on the bed, a heartbeat moniter hooked to him, IV's, and an oxygen tank. Sarah at the side, Gary behind her. Lyons looked towards me, eyes sad and weak.

"What the hell happened?"

Sarah spoke. "Fawkes...he just came in at night. He's a friend, we let him in. And then he backhands my father and runs out screaming that he's sorry. I don't know what happened to him."

Fawkes? No, he'd never...

"Are you sure it was him?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" She snapped. I didn't blame her.

"Alright. It's...It has to be something. Maybe..." I was drawing a blank. I could deduce my enemy's plans in a second, but I couldn't predict my friends. Great.

Lyons wheezed. "Al...come...come here." I obeyed, knelt down to him. "It's it's not his fault. He has a good soul. I could feel it. Some...something must've happened. But...when you...find him...show him mercy. Tell him...that it's alright."

He took my hand, gently squeezed. I squeezed back. "Y-...Yes sir."

"Good boy." He said finally, then laid back down. It must've taken a lot of strength.

"Al..." Sarah spoke, after a moment. I looked at her, she at me. "Go...go look at the terminal. It has the diagnosis on there."

I stood, went over, activated it. Skimmed over. Multiple rib fractures, on true ribs down to the floating ribs. Sternum broken. Punctered lung. Internal hemorraging.

"What's your take?" She asked queitly. I took a moment to answer.

"He's...He's a tough old man. He'll pull through." Lies. I'm suprised he's alive now. I looked back at her, gave a reassuring smile. She smiled back.

"Yeah..." I took a breath and walked out. Someone told me he had headed south. This wasn't gonna end well. I already felt it. I told Amata and Hollow to wait.

I needed to do this alone.

A/N

I fucking bum rushed this. One nighter, from 11-3, and only one Monster Assault energy drink. I feel so badass. I'm already on the next chapter. I wanted to explore Al's psyche a little on this. Give some more depth to this story. I know it may be boring, this one, but trust me, the next will be absolutely awesome.


	15. Sacrifice

Hey guys, big shit going down in this chapter. Sarah and Al finally have a conversation. And this foe is more dangerous that any other Al has faced. He'll have to bend his rules to win, and even then, victory always has costs...

O

I ran south, panting hard. My side was acting up again. I'd cleaned and dressed it earlier, but it still hurt. I blocked it out, focusing on the path ahead.

I felt the clang of weapons on my back. My shotgun and a Plasma rifle. I'd always figured it was best to mimic your prey. For Talon Company, I was perfectly equipped. Chinese Assault rifle, and my dark green Combat armor. For Super Mutants, about the same set up. But for Enclave, energy weapons.

Eventually, I had to stop. But by that time, I was a little more than halfway between the Citadel and Nadine's boat. I had to rest, my side was hurting too badly for me to continue. I pulled out a syringe of Med-X, stabbed myself with it. I felt the wave of relief as the pain subsided.

I stood up, and looked around. My hat kept the noon sun out of my eyes. I could see pretty far, but no Fawkes in sight. I cursed under my breath. Super Mutants could run like a train. There may be no way I could catch him...

But I picked up my feet again, kept going. I had to find him. This all had to be a mistake. Fawkes was good, after all. He and Lyons had discussed philosphy once or twice. They liked each other.

Couldn't have been him. No way. I hope.

After another five minutes, I finally saw a lone Super Mutant. Without thinking, I yelled out to him. He turned around, and a look of fear entered his face. His familiar face.

It was Fawkes.

"Run away!" He screamed at me. His legs wanted to move forward, but didn't. He seemed to lock himself in place, fighting againt something.

"Fawkes, it's me! I'm alive!"

"No! Please, just...go away!" His face contorted in agony, and his legs propelled forward. "I can't...control myself!"

I didn't want to believe it. That he'd attack me. So I face down the bull, hoped it'd stop. He neared me. Thrity feet...twenty...fifteen...ten...

He's not going to stop.

That was the though in my head just before his fist connected with my chest. I was sent flying, a good three seconds airborne, and slammed back first into a column. My rifle and my shotgun skittered off to the side. Only my knife and my pistol were on me. I tumbled down to my knees, groaning in pain. He was on me in a second. He picked me up by my waist, his huge hands lifting me.

I looked into his eyes, mine full of confusion and hurt, his filled with shame.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I can't...fight."

He threw me again, and I rolled across the concrete. Behind the Med-X, I felt a dull ache. I slowly rose to my feet, and saw him charging me again. This time I was ready.

Despite the pain, I rolled out of the way, letting him throw himself off balance. My hand found my lost shotgun, and shot three buckshots into his legs. He cried out in pain, and it tore my heart out.

He stumbled some, fell to his hands. He pushed himself to his hands easily enough, turned towards me, but I had the upper hand this time. I was sprinting towards him, I leaped, drop kicking him with all my force.

He staggere backwards, yelling. I pulled out my pistol, ready, and scrambling away. He regained his posture, and walked towards me, raising his fist to the air. As he launched down, I shot his arm, and he missed wide. He held his minorly injured arm for a moment, the raised his foot to stomp.

No stopping this one. I rolled away, getting to a crouching pose while I did so. He slammed his foot into the ground, and I felt the concrete shake a little. He prepared to back hand me, but I leapt back. Opened his defenses, and I charged. I used my powerful legs to launch myself into the air, and used the momentum to slam my robotic fist into his jaw.

He cradled the jaw, felt it. It was dislocated. He moaned dischordantly, and placed his hands on his head. He slammed his jaw back into place, and roared his anger and pain at me. Seeing this beast from my friend actually spooked me. He launched his fist at me, catching my stomach. Not jard enough to send me flying, but enough so that I doubled over.

He grabbed me by the back of my armor, and shoved me to the ground. I rolled, landing on my back. Before I could erect myself, he stepped down on me.

"Please forgive me..." He said, then slowly began putting his massive weight on me. I cried out in pain. Enclave expiriemtns made my bones stronger, but not unbreakable. I looked for a way out. I saw my Plasma rifle lying close by. I managed to grab it, then fired bolt after bolt into his chest.

He screamed and broke off, the superheated gas burning his skin. He tried to rub it off, patting his chest, babbling in fear and pain. I rose, clutching my chest. I pulled out my combat knife from my boot, and saw my chance. I boarded his back, clutching the gatling laser backpack for leverage. He felt the weight, tried to reach me, but his arms couldn't get to me.

I raised my knife to the sky, as if preparing a sacrifice for some lost God. I pierced my friend's neck with it, and pulled it out, and stabbed him again. And again. And again. And again.

And a last time just for good measure.

He then began to stumble backwards, slamming me into another column. I grunted in pain, and slipped off of him. I managed to lean against the column, rather than slam to my knees.

He clutched his bleeding neck, trying to staunch the flow. His primal instict kicked in, and he decided to try and kill me first. He turned, hate in his eyes, and let go of his neck. Blood poured out of the gash, and he lifted out his gatling laser from his back. My eeys widended in fear, and one last shot of adrenaline kicked in.

I ran to the side, trying to avoid the red beam of death. A few beams caught my, my side and arm, and I felt the scorch of the energy. I made it about thirty feet in five seconds. Then the beam stopped. I tripped and fell, my face slamming into the ground. I tasted blood.

When I raised my head, I saw blood drippng from a few spots. My nose, my cheek. My mouth.

I reared my head towards him. The beast had fallen. I growled in exertion as I forced myself up. I limped over to him, and dropped down to a knee.

"Al...you're...alive..." He said.

"Yeah. I am."

"I knew it. I knew it...from the start." He continued. "Are you hurt?" He asked, and his eyes met mine. The old Fawkes. I felt wetness down my cheek. Not blood this time.

"Been worse." No, that's actually a lie.

"I'm...I'm so sorry. I can't control myself. The Enclave...they found me, opened me, stuck wires into my head. Everything I see, they do. I hear it, they do. I can barely talk..."

"Don't. Save your strength. You'll be fine." He shook his head.

"No...I won't." He looked up again, sadness in his eyes. "I've tasted freedom, and now servitude. But I'm still their..._plaything_!" He spat out. "You gave me my freedom, when nothing else could. Now...I need you to do it again."

_No. Please. Please, God, no. Don't make me do this._

"But...I can..."

"Do nothing. Please. I'd rather die a free, good man...then live for one more second as a tool for malevolence."

"Fawkes..." I said, my voice breaking. "Please..."

"You must be the one to do it. Please. Set...me...free..."

I unholstered my pistol. I held it to his forehead. He stood still, waiting for it.

"Fawkes...I'm sorry I couldn't save you." I apologized, my voice finally breaking down. I could barely from the words, blood bubbling in my mouth.

"No...you _are _about to save me..." I hesitated for a moment. I was about to squeeze the trigger, but I heard him. "I know...that you don't believe...but..."

"But?" I blubbered out. I wanted to pause in time. Never have to do what must be done.

"I'll...I'll see you...in...Heaven."

I breathed deeply. I closed my eyes. "Yeah. We will. Goodbye..."

Then I set Fawkes free.

O

We were assembled in the council room. Myself, Lyon's Pride, Amata, Hollow, Gary, Head Scribe Rothchild, Paladin Vargas, Star Paladin Cross, and the new Elder of the Capitol Wasteland Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel:

Sarah Lyons.

It was tense. Tense enough to taste. First off, it was my friend who'd killed the former Elder, second, I was dead for seven months, and third, Gary.

Sarah broke the silence. "Al." I stopped glaring at Gary and turned to her. "Do you have any intel on the Enclave's plans?" I nodded. "Then what are they?"

I shifted in my chair. I was in agony after Fawkes. "Contingency A-56. Locate a Vault, repair it or clear out any inhabitants, then broadcast for reinforcements." I said emotionlessly. "My guess: They're currently calling any and all troops in the Capitol Wasteland to rally. Then they'll broadcast long-range."

Amata spoke up. "Wait, what? 'Clear out any inhabitants'? What does that mean?"

"Exactly what it says on the tin, Amata. Any and all inhabitants." Amata paled harshly.

"So can we assume that there will be no civillians in the area?" Vargas asked.

I countered. "If that were the case, then Amata wouldn't be sitting here." I motioned to her.

"Enclave has always followed procedures, as far as we know. Why the change?" Rothchild pondered.

"The de-facto leader knows that this Chapter is trying to save civillians. Also that since it was my home, he knows that if I attack, he can just start killing hostages." I continued. "The guy, Harkin, he's clever. He's putting us in between a rock and a hard place. If we attack, Vault Dwellers will be killed."

Gary piped up. "Well, what if we wait it out? They'll have to come out eventually, right?" The response was a collective stare. "What?"

"Do your fucking ears work?" I asked him bitterly, rising from my chair. He nodded defensively. "I said the last stage of the plan is to call for longe-range reinforcements. That means if we sit around with our thumbs up our collective asses, then they can get an entire army in here, and then we're fucked!"

"Al, please!" Sarah scolded. I returned to my seat.

"Even if they don't get reinforcements, Vault 101 is a functioning, self-sufficient Vault. They can hole up there for as long as they please to." Amata informed.

"See? Even the Vaultie knows more about tactics then you do!" I insulted Gary. He rose out of his chair.

"At least I didn't just fucking dissapear for seven months and let all this shit happen!" He yelled. I was about to retort back, but Sarah cut us off.

"Enough! Both of you!" She ordered, placing her fists on the table. We both backed down. "I don't need either of your shit! What I need is a way to get inside that Vault, and without alerting the Enclave to start a massacre. Any ideas?"

No one spoke for a long moment. A tapping sound came from the corner. We all looked, and Hollow was knocking the wall. He quickly scribbled on his clipboard. One of the Lyon's Pride rolled their eyes. Hollow and his fucking clipboard.

He handed it to me. I looked at it. Two faces, completely identical. Same everything. Under one, "Harkin", under the other "Al". It took me a moment to figure it out.

"Hollow's got it." I turned it around, everyone leaned to see it. "Harkin and I look alike. If I go there flying the Enclave flag, they'll let me in, no questions asked."

"That'll work." Sarah said. "Hollow?" He turned towards her. "Good thinking." He nodded his gratitude.

"What about backup? You'll be up to your neck in Enclave." Cross mentioned.

"Hmm." I said. No way they'd let in a whole group. "Possibly...I could lock a few doors, trap the Vault Dwellers in a safe area, then you could assault the Vault?"

"It's possible. It'll have to do." Sarah finished. "All right. We assault tomorrow." She was a wreck. She could hide it well, but I knew her enough to know she was three steps from Hell. I'd been right there too. Maybe if we'd all just said out goodbye's, she might've been okay. But Gary had to open his big mouth.

"What about Fawkes? He was _your _responsibility, Al." I think Sarah went from thinking of Fawkes to her father. She placed her head in her hand, elbow on the table.

"Everyone, out. Now." I ordered. Everyone went to leave but Gary. Even those who I had no true authority over, like Cross of Rothchild. But not Gary.

"You're not Brotherhood anymore. I don't take orders from you."

"Gary, you are a Paladin. Al is a Star Paladin. He outranks you by a longshot. The only one who can revoke his orders is me, and I'm not revoking them." She said bitterly, a hidden flame. "Now, _go._" He reluctantly left, angered to have been outranked by me. I shot him a smile as he left.

So it was just me and Sarah. Alone. In the room. One about to breakdown, the other emotionally frosting over. But I still walked over to her silently. I pulled the chair closest to her closer. I sat down. I saw her hand move away from her face just enough so that one eye, one puffy red eye, could see me. I heard her sniffle, saw her shake.

As mad at her as I was, as betrayed as I felt, as bad as she hurt me...

I hated seeing her cry. Even though she abandoned hope of me, I understand why she tried to move on. It's what I told her to do. I know my life is dangerous. I rarely know I'll live to see tomorrow. So I told her to move on if I died. To find another. Even though she's with Gary now, I can't find the strength or the hate to call her out on it. As horrible as I felt when they kissed...

I just want her to be happy.

So I did what Gary was too stupid to do. I took her free hand into my own, just held it. I put my arm over her shoulder, pulled her into me, gave her my shoulder. I didn't say a word. I know how she feels. To lose the one person in your life who'd love you unconditionally. To see your parent die before your eyes, and you can do nothing about it, even though they could do anything for you. She was there for me when I fell into that hole. Now, even after all the shit that's happened, Fawkes, my dissapearance, the shit she's put me through...

I just want her to be happy.

Even if I have to sacrifice my own happiness. If she's happy with Gary, then I love her enough to let her be with Gary.

I'll always love her enough to sacrifice for her.

O A/N

This has got to be the most emotional chapter I have ever written. Honestly. This took me like five hours to write, becasue I wanted it to be perfect. After I wrote Fawkes' scene, I simply had to sit back for ten minutes. After the last scene, I sat for half an hour seeing if I could tweak it. But it's perfect in my eyes.

Please, let me know what you think. If you liked it, review. If not, also review. If you loved it, favorite it, or even share it with people.

Chubs...Chubs out.


	16. Endless Thanks

Hey people. Listen, I was going through and reading some reviews for some inspiration to write.

Thank you all so much. You cannot even imagine how awesome it feels to be loved like you guys do. Most of you are the reason I write. That and for the bitches. Damn, I love me some bitches.

But really though, thank you.

Hell, just ignore this and move on, saying "Oh that asshole Chubs, always being a dick with these alert chaps". But whatever you do, thank you. So, because of all the love I've gotten, I'm going to do some fanservice.

My next endeavor, along with some FNV stories, will be for my fans. What it'll have is your OC's adventuring with Al. Each will get a one shot, unless you are ok with sharing a story. Here's the OC charachter Sheet.

_**Name:**_

_**Species (IE: Human/Ghoul/Super Mutant): No talking deathclaws though.**_

_**Race(Optional if going to put a Ghoul/Super Mutant OC):**_

_**Gender:**_

_**Sexuality:**_

_**Backstory: (IE: Wastelander who read the Wasteland Survival Guide and got inspired to be a hero, or something very deep. I will read anything you send to me)**_

_**Tagged Skills: (Three only(Also please specify how the got these skills. (On second thought, place this down in the "Notes" section)))**_

_**Special Stats: (Must be reasonable: IE S-7 P-6 E-7 C-4 I-4 A-4 L-5)**_

_**S:**_

_**P:**_

_**E:**_

_**C:**_

_**I:**_

_**A:**_

_**L:**_

_**Personality:**_

_**Karma level (And Al will work with evil chars. Just don't expect them to get along too well. And they will most likely be working for the greater good.):**_

_**Accent: (Optional)**_

_**Common Phrases:**_

_**Likes:**_

_**Dislikes:**_

_**Hometown:**_

_**Accessories (Must also be reasonable. If your guy has the Reservist's rifle, Col Autumn's 10mm, Sydney's 10mm SMG, and wears t-51b power armor, chances are, he won't be accepted. But if it's leather armor, a hunting rifle/lever-action/ assault, then he'll have a much better chance. Bonus points if it's a female char and she wears skimpy stuff.):**_

_**Other notes (IE: If you want Al to have a a closer bond to this char, for them to teach him something)**_

_**Also, if you want them to go on a certain type of adventure (IE: DC escort to Rivet City, or Wasteland Wandering, or any other, please put a basic outline here. If it's interesting, I'll write it, if not, please do not be offended.)**_

_**It would be a huge help to have an Fanfic acc, so we could collaborate over any details of your char I need specified.**_


	17. Waiting for the End Fight to Begin

Hey guys, I thank everyone for any submission of a char they put in. If you haven't, take a look at the char sheet I've provided.

O

I sat alone, in my study. It was where I kept many reminders of the man the Wasteland had made me. A small table, a bottle of scotch perpetually on it. A few books. _Paradise Lost_. _The Road_. _The God Delusion_. Books on philosophy and knowledge, on pragmatic skills, or the adventures and harships of others. The pistol I wielded, a 10mm, a gift from the past life. On the shelves I had, the clothes that had protected me while I transcended into manhood.

On the middle, an armored Jumpsuit and leather armor, given to me as a gift. With it I had built the foundation of my legends. I had taken the lives of many raiders and pests with it covering me in both my body and mind. It gave me something to look backwards upon, that I may be able to return home. I discarded it after the Wastes took its toll on my innocence and my body.

The leather I bore after I saw what the Wastes did to people. Corrupted the good. Rewarded the evil. Maimed the weak. I had slain many mercenaries and Ghouls under its gaurd, as both my reputation and my wanderings grew. It, as well as my own skin and mind, toughened and darkened as I came to understand how the world I lived in truly acted. I stopped using it when I found that Leather can only harden so much before it stops, needs a replacement.

The lowest, a suit of Power Armor and Metal armor. The metal armor I had used when the Centaurs and their keepers tried to scar me, but could never succeed. The weight kept me grounded to reality, never letting myself feel mercy for the wretched souls, or allowing my mind to dream of a better place. After the death of my father, the scrap simply couldn't defend me.

The powered armor gave me the shell I needed to complete my transcending. It allowed me to expel the rage in my heart without repercussions. Gave me anonymity and strength. Blessed me with a bulwark against the demons that plagued my mind and heart. I shed the shell after I found that the pain of my past only slowed me down.

At the top, a suit of standard combat armor, alone in its glory. I donned this after I found solace with myself, and rather than allow the hurt in my memories as fuel to a fire or let them fester like a wound, found strength in them. Strength to rise up and fight for the next man in line. Take a bullet for the Wasteland. It helped me stay on my feet, and let me see the hope that tomorrow will be better.

Along the walls, weapons. Prizes of battle, some. Weapons won off opponents in combat, taking it from their cold, dead hands. Others found in the ruins of the old world, left there by ancient dead who believed they would be the ones to use them. A rare few were gifts. Rewards from grateful people who had no other way to repay me.

Here I sit, alone, in the room that is the culmination of every road I've walked, every soul I've taken or met, and every sight that has scarred or healed me.

Here I sit, alone, and wait for my fight to end.

O

I walked out of my study, clad clad in nothing but olive fatigues on my legs, and the bandaging over my still-healing knife wound in my ribs. It wrapped around my side, going over my shoulder. I felt exposed, Hollow was sitting on the edge of the stairs, letting his legs hang down. He looked at me, blankly. He turned away. Right now, I didn't much care what anyone thought. I just wanted to finish this fight.

Amata looked up at me from the pink chair. She wasn't specifically looking at me. She looked sad, nervous, and angry all at the same time. But mostly nervous. She'd been in enough firefights that I could count it on one hand. Going into a full assault was nerve-racking. I know.

"Amata." Her eyes cleared. "You're not coming with me." She looked suprised. Relieved, but suprised.

"Why not?" She asked. Probably just to talk. As if she doesn't know.

"You're too green. You'd get killed if you were in either team, infiltration or assault." She had beginner's luck when she saved me from those raiders.

"I can fight! I can handle myself..." She argued. Pointlessly. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Felt the gauze shift against my skin, a slight pain. I need more med-x.

"Against raiders. Who have no real tactics, just more guns. Enclave is paramilitary orgainization. They have superior tactics, weapons, and armor. They're fighting to defend, and they probably set up defenses. Chokepoints. Plus, it's their last stand. They're cornered."

"But...how would you get around the vault?" I saw in her eyes she figured out the flaw after it left her lips.

"I grew up there. I know every secret passage, every hiding spot. We found them, remember?" I lifted a hand toward her, engaging her for her response.

"Yeah..." She said half-heartedly. I walked over, placed my hand on her shoulder.

"I don't want you to get hurt." I didn't want anyone to get hurt. I'd take all the pain in the world if I had to. This world is worth saving. I hope.

"I know. It's just...I want to help."

"I know that feeling. But the Vault needs a caring leader after the current one." She nodded, and leaned back in her chair. I turned to Hollow. He was watching the whole scene, watching for any mistakes I make (BTW: Fuck you Brian. Just kiddin'.), anything that could give away my thoughts.

I gave him nothing. What I was planning was mine.

O

Now, I sit in my own room. Every item, ever momento here, is a reminder of an adventure, and in that adventure, I lesson I learned. Some lessons, of humanity's cruelty to ourselves and everything around us. Others, how stubborn man is, how ddep we sink our roots. We purge the world in atomic fire, mutating the animals into monstrosities, then years of infighting. And yet? Here we are.

And other, on how awe-inspirignly benevolent we can be. How, if the stars align, we can come together and move mountains. I've proven it to others, and even to myself. Because of one good deed I do, it's reported by GNR. Then, someone out there is inspired that good can be done, that he can make a difference. Then the domino effect.

It's been rough. Shit, it's going rough. But what angers me most is how useless I've been. How I've failed these people who needed me. When I could've been patrolling the outer wastes, I was wasting time in the Pitt. When I was captured, how I didn't break out quick enough. How I let Sarah down. How I, because I was just a step behind Harkin, let both the former Elder Lyons and Fawkes die.

And not just now. Before all of this. Tenpenny Tower. I preached tolerance to the human residents, made them see that all life is precious. They believed me, opened the gates to Roy Phillips. And then...no human in sight. I don't visit often, but I know that those coddled fools don't just take walks around the wasteland. I let them die because I thought that everyone is good at heart. I didn't eradicate the Enclave for the same reason.

I could've saved them. At least Fawkes. I could've just crippled him, or dug out the mind control device. Or just knocked him out. Or...anything. But I didn't. I let him...No. I _killed_ him. My best friend. He trusted me, he called me his liberator, and I killed him. How can I call myself good when I've not acted and let evil happen?

There's now way that I'm the hero that they all see. No. The Lone Wanderer may be a legend, but Al Sorenson is a man. A flawed, pathetic, weak, foolish man.

I sigh, and retrieve an officer's suit from my filing cabinet. I pull on a shirt to cover my bandages. Then began the tedious process of donning the suit that my enemy wears.

O

I step out of my room, adjusting the coat's buttons. I shake my legs, trying to bear these pants, rotate my shoulders to feel how much breathing room I could get.

As the pair looks at me, I slipped on the hat, completing the disguise. I swear I saw Amata giving me a slow once over. Hollow simply looked with his arms crossed. Whatever I had planned, he didn't like.

"Alright." I said finally. Almost a sigh. "It's almost time. The assault team will be here in three hours." I looked at Amata expectantly. "You-"

"I know what to do, Al." She said, almost angirly. If I was feeling anything at that moment, I may have been ticked at her tone. But I wasn't feeling anything.

"Hollow." He nodded. He was to cover me as I went through. If someone seemed to be an issue, he'd deal with it. With lethal force. "Good. Let's move." I slipped my .44 into my breast pocket. I'd definetly need it. I placed a plasma pistol into my side holster. For effect. I didn't like energy pistols. Plasma Rifles I adored, but pistols were off-limits.

He slipped his knife into his boot, slung his rifle over his back. We were about to leave the building, when Amata stopped us.

"Promise to come back?" Hollow nodded. There was almost something between them. I chose to ignore it. "If you don't come back, I'll tell everyone your real name." She smiled coyly. She used that threat back when we were kids, back when my Dad scolded me for doing something bad. But I could see that fear in her eyes, almost hidden.

I smiled. "You don't got the balls."

She cupped her breasts. "They're right here. And they're bigger than yours." She said with a sing-song voice. I smiled a little wider and shook my head, and left my home. Maybe for the last time.

Once I was out of earshot, Amata slumped, falling back into the pink chair. There, she wept to herself, scared for both of her friends.

O

We walk in silence, of course. Warriors rarely need to converse on the road to their battles. And it's not like I want Hollow to talk. I can barely get the guy to shut up sometimes.

But I think of course. We both do. But he's probably trying to read my thoughts. Watch if I'm going to try and martyr myself. No. Not this time. I want to be alive to strangle Harkin, and I want to control the executions over the rest of his men.

But I'll think up creative torture methods later. Right now, my mind is blank. Cold. Numb. But my feet have cause. They move, if not over their own voliton. It almost feels like I'm being driven to this. To this one last battle. There may be miles between us a few months ago, but now? I'm at his front doorstep. _My_ front doorstep.

But what am I going to do? Do I pull the trigger when I get him in my sights? Do I let him flee with his dignity between his legs? Do I crush him and all of his Enclave slowly, or end them quickly? Do I just hurt them enough o that they never forget what they did?

Or do I try and lead them to the light? Or make them see the error they've made, try and get them to help the Wasteland, and not just "Pure" humans? Or do I simply walk away, start over in another place?

They want the vault? Let 'em. Why should I care? If I could forget all of this, I wouldn't hurt so bad.

No. I'd hurt worse. This needs to happen. But will I take the low road...or the high road?

O

The two Paladins guarding the new Elder's room shifted uneasily in their armor as they saw their brother approach. He'd been called in an hour earlier, for a private meeting with the Elder.

Back with Lyons senior, a private meeting was generally a reward. He'd greet you, shake your hand, and you'd be fine. Only rarely was it a reprimand. But with the new Elder...no one had any clue what would happen.

And the man marching down the hallway was about to find out. But he did have an advantage, being the Elder's lover. So maybe he'd got off easy, or maybe it was a reward. Or maybe it was a show of power, a message that this was her Brotherhood.

Whatever it was, they'd hear in a few minutes. They both saluted the poor bastard, and he nodded back, and entered the room. He saw Sarah reclining on the couch, a cigarette in her hands. She'd taken up smoking a week after I disappeared. If I knew about it, I'd burn every cigarette in her possession. Give 'em to Jericho. Lord knows how much he needs 'em.

She took one last draw, and put it out in an ashtray. She motioned for him to sit, and he obeyed like a dog given a treat. She adjusted her posture, taking on the mantle of her new title. For a moment, she looked like the Sarah I knew. Strong. Confident. A force to be reckoned with, on or off the battlefield. Smart. Charming. Undeniably beautiful. And a very good shot.

"Gary." She began, unsure of where to start. It wasn't to be an easy conversation. But then she figured that she shouldn't chickenfoot around. "It's over."

"What's over?"

"We are. As in us being in a relationship." She said firmly, her eyes diverted from his.

Gary glared, knowing his insubordination. "Oh, I see. It's Al, isn't it? Now that he's back, you're gonna just jump into his arms, right?"

"No. Fraternization betwe-"

"Oh, bullshit!" He exclaimed, knowing his ass is on the line. "If it were Al, you know damn well that you'd try and make it work."

"N-" SHe almost began to deny. But then she realized, he was right. If it were me, then we'd bend the rules. "Fine. It is Al. I love you, Gary. I really do. You've helped me through some rough times, but I love Al even more. And I'm sorry." Now she found the strength to look him in the eyes. Albeit apologetically.

She knew it must've been hard for Gary. To feel like he's just some cheap toy, to use and leave as much as you want. Like the night they made love didn't even matter, like she was thinking of me the whole time. (Which wasn't true. I wouldn't try to think of a corpse while making love.) He was about to yell, but then remembered how much stress she must be in, especially now. He sighed, and stood up.

"You're sure?" He aksed. She nodded, hesitantly, but then surely. "Ok." He conceited. He began to leave, but once his hand touched the handle, h turned and said to her: "Whatever happens..." He stopped. "Whatever happens, I hope that you and him are happy together."

He left Elder Lyons to her battle plans.

There, she, my love, sat alone, waiting for the end.

O

Hollow and I sat on the ridge. We were waiting for a patrol to pass by. I hadn't thought of this flaw in the plan. It'd look overly suspicious if the leader walked in from outside without going outside. So Hollow handed me a Stealth Boy and we waited for a squad to come back. I knew that this meant that some of the Vaulties wouldn't get to safety. I kicked myself, mentally and almost physically, for the mistake. More lives wasted because I failed.

Hollow knew how I felt. He could read me like a book. I was looking down, angry at my boots, and I felt weight on my shoulder. It was Hollow, right there. Holding his clipboard.

_It's alright._

"No, it's not, damn it!" I brushed off his hand roughly. "Because of my stupidity, I'm placing everyone at risk!"

He scribbled again.

_You're doing your best._

"My best isn't good enough. If I hadn't cared about sparing those fucking bastards at the Falls, then I'd have not wasted half a damn year there! Who gives a shit if they "reform" some people. If I'd just acted for the best..."

_You did. They'll save some worthwhile people. I know it._

And just under that, he circled over his previous statement. A lie in my eyes. If I was doing that, the Enclave wouldn't have been a problem right now. "Sure." The blood of Elder Lyons, the one Elder who had chosen life over technology, had defied the entirety of the Brotherhood's doctrine, and because of my weakness in the Pitt, had been killed. Sure, I lost a father, but he sacrificed himself for the greater good.

Lyons just died because he was in the way. He never deserved a death like that. The man deserved...more. Just not that.

And Fawkes. One of the few other idealistic beings in the Wastes, like myself. We could feed each other's belief, that the world was good, that people will act for the betterment of others. If that was true, then we wouldn't be calling anything "Pre-War". People are selfish, corrupt, and cruel.

But that doesn't mean I should make their lives any worse. And I've tried. I've tried to live by that. Just fix what's wrong, show people that there is kindess, and they will come to repricate it. Respond to anger with kindness, show mercy at the gravest offences, and show love where there is hate.

But where has this gotten me? A lost home, my love found another man, and so many lost friends.

O

I adjusted my hat on my head. I'd made it in, and with a minute or two on the Stealthboy to spare. I calmed my heartbeat, leaning against the wall. I wiped my brow, the fear making me sweat. I was never that good at stealth, or acting. So having to do both? Fuck.

I heard someone enter, and I quickly flushed the toilet. I made a fuss of my uniform, and opened the stall door, and the startled soldier jumped into attention. "Sir!" He spoke in a trained way, saluting me.

I saluted back. I had watched a lot of military holo-tapes with Amata. What did they say...?

"At ease, soldier." I tried out, a stern voice and pose. He nodded, and went over to the urinal. He glanced over his shoulder, scared, but did manage to piss. I walked out, hiding the smile. As I entered the hallway, I glanced left and right. No one. I was in the Eastern Hallway. If I went right, I could make it to the Overseer's office, I could activate the locks.

But first, I had to find the old Overseer himself. That'd be difficult. Normally, he'd hang around his office, but since Amata told me that Harkin would've most likely taken that in her abscense, that's a no-go.

I walked along, waiting for another soldier. Two rounded the corner. Both in standard armor, like the first. They almost did a full 180 when the saw their "Commander". But they held, and when I came a little closer, they parted in the hall, saluting me. I stepped before them, and asked.

"Soldiers. The Vault Dwellers. Where are they?"

The one on my right spoke. "Second lever, in their classroom, sir. That's where the troublesome ones are. The others are scattered around." His voice was shaky, and the suit's voice transmitter didn't hide it. I thanked him, and went on my way.

"Uh...sir?"

I turned, and almost lost control of my bowels. "What?"

"Why did you ask...you were the one who ordered them to be kept there?" The first one asked again. He was even more shaky. I think he did just lose control of his bowels.

"He's right sir." The second one was much more sturdy.

I sighed. "Men, how hard do you think it is? To try and rebuild America from this wasteland?" They looked down, ashamed. "I'm having to deal with a shortage of men, not to mention the dwellers who cause us problems and annoy me. It's more stress than any of you grunts will ever face, and if I have to ask, then you answer, and do not bother me for an explanation."

Yup, there goes the first one's bowels.

"Sorry sir," The more sturdy one said, "I understand. It's a tough job, and no one else could do it better, sir."

"Thank you. Now, back to your rounds." I turned, after stating that, and smirked to myself. I've gotta pull rank more often. No wonder all those military holo-tapes have the officers yelling so often. It's fun.

Alright, so second level is the more troublesome ones. The old Overseer might be there. He did know of the Enclave...but I don't think he'd actively resist them. He's old, and he knows that pissing off the guards isn't good.

So it's a search. Fun.

"Sir? I have the codes you wanted." A red-haired young man held a manilla folder under his arm, and waited for my response expectantly.

"Good work. And they are?"

He shifted towards a door. "We should do this in private sir. Prying ears."

"Of course." I opened the door, and we went in. Closed it, and he handed me the folder. As I took it, he grasped my arm. I glared at him, and he sharply looked back.

"The code is 4-8-6-8." He began to leave, but turned back and whispered. "Kick Harkin's ass, Sorenson." And left, quickly walking away. My heart dropped, until I realized that he was on my side. I smiled. Even evil has standards.

O

"What do you mean, 'late?'" Sarah snapped at Hollow. He tapped on his clipboard again.

_Al's late. Had to infiltrate. Must delay assault._

"Hollow, we can't." She shook her head. "You know damn well the more time we spend here, the chances that we're discovered increase. We can't delay."

_We have to. Al would._

She looked at the words, and cursed. Loudly. She then grumbled, and conceited. "Thirty minutes, then we have to go."

Hollow nodded. He turned back to the Vault, and stared. As if to lend me his strength.

O

Thank the flying spaghetti monster. The Overseer's not imprisoned. I saw him walking the hall, sullen and broken. No, not broken. He didn't hold his shoulders the way a broken man did. He was queitly defiant. He still held that pose that emanated power. This was his vault, and he would show it.

He gave me the most gut-wrenching glare as he approached. Hell, even when Amata and I had broke into the class at night to watch a holo-tape, both stealing the holotape, being out past curfew, and breaking and entering all at the same time, he hadn't given us this.

I grabbed his arm, and he looked ready to fisticup me to the death for his honor. I pulled him into the bathroom, and shut the door.

"What is it now, Harkin?" He spat with utmost disgust, arms crossed in front of his chest.

I checked the stalls for feet. None. We were alone. Damn lucky that no one had to go. Maybe the bathroom break was recent.

"It's me, Al." I pulled off the hat, showed him. His eyes opened wide, and I saw a flicker of hope pass through his eyes. I saw a younger man there.

"What? Really? How did you...?" He asked, but regained his composure. "Why are you here?" I explained the whole scenario to him, and he nodded all throughout.

He looked to the side, thinking. "So you're here to liberate us? You've brought an army?" I saw him smile. An honest to damn smile. His face turned back years of time. It was small, but cut off as the door opened again. A Tesla-armored soldier tried to enter, but saw his commanding officer.

That, and I'd pulled my plasma pistol on him.

He put up his arms in defense, asking for absolvement. "I can wait, sir." He slowly backed up, all the while keeping his arms up. He pressed the button, and the door closed. I slipped the pistol back in.

The Overseer nodded his head. "Clever. I always had you pegged for a smart one. Just the right skills in the wrong places." He admired. I hadn't felt that happy since my own dad complimented me in Project Purity.

"Thanks." I had nothing else to say. I was just so suprised. But his expression turned dark.

He seemed afraid to ask. "My...my daught-..." His voice broke a little. Then I realized it. He was a human being. He cared for his people, and his daughter.

I smiled. Sadly. "She's fine. Better than fine." I saw him relax. Nights of fear erased.

"Thank the lord." He muttered to himself. I interrupted his state. I had a job to do.

"I need you to get the others to a safe place. I'm going to cause an alarm, get the place locked down. But I need the Vault Dweller safe."

"How long do we have?" I checked my Pip-Boy. It was only a quarter till the time Hollow and I agreed on.

"Not long. Move fast, but don't arouse suspicion."

"Got it." He turned to leave, but glanced over his shoulder with a determined look. A new fire in his eyes. His people were in danger, and he would not let them down.

"And Al?" I looked expectantly. "Good job."

I smiled, and we went our seperate ways. For me, it may be the last time I ever talk to him. But I have a reason. So that Amata and her father can meet again. I'll fight to my grave for these people.

Hell, I almost intend to.

O

I entered my enemy's office. I had hoped it'd feel different. What I was hoping was for the prescence of evil, pure and raw. Maybe he'd put up a few Enclave banners, decorate. Make it seem like someone diabolical worked here. Had plotted here. But no. It had nothing. Not a single thing had changed since I was here last.

I sighed. It simply reinforced a fact: This guy wasn't an omnicidal maniac. He believed that the restoration of America justified his menas. _Utopia _justified the means. Not one person can disagree with that. I know I didn't. But a Utopia for who? Only the people the Enclave deems worthy.

And a genocide for the rest.

I cursed under my breath. Utopia could come, just not like this. I walked over to the terminal, and opened the manilla folder. "4868." I said. I skimmed over the rest. Just technobabble I had no time for.

I checked my clock. Two minutes. Despite myself, I asked some diety to make sure that everyone was safe. I punched in the code on the keypad.

An alarm rang out a few seconds later, but the wrong one. "INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! SECURITY TO OVERSEER'S OFFICE!" Began blaring over the speaker. I yelled out a curse, leapt over the desk, and tried to open the door. Locked.

I growled, and went over to the computer. I ripped off the keypad, and saw a touchpad underneath. I took one glance at it, and pegged it. It wasn't a code pad. No.

It was a fingerprint reader.

I have to say, I kinda did smile just then. Harkin did know what he was doing.

O A/N

Hey guys. I know I may have said that this was the last chapter, but I'm sorry. I just really wanted you guys to get a new chapter. And I wanted the final fight in its own chapter. There'll probably be an epilogue also. But do know that the no-holds-barred beatdown will happen next chapter.

I'll be honest, I've tried going back to the roots on this one. Back to my style in Broken Hearts of Steel. I tried out a new style, and it didn't really work. But from here on out, any work I do will be the best I can. Please, review, tell me how I did, point out any mistakes, ask any questions. I'll answer the best I can.

I promise. Chubs out.


	18. From the Ashes of a Broken Man

This is it. Harkin and Al will finally face one another. Once the smoke clears, only one man will stand. And he who does will be changed. Because when two men of great ability meet, they must either destroy each other, unite, or one will rise above the other. Harkin may have Pre-War military hardware and training, and his raw ruthlessness and underhanded tactics, but Al has the raw expirience from becoming a man in the middle of a God-forsaken warzone, and the willpower to beat everything it has thrown at him so far.

This is the moment so many have fought moment that so many have died for. Let's begin.

O(A good song to play if you so wish is "Lone Wanderer" by Rameses B)

An alarm blared, screaming at the men for their foolishness. They scrambled down below, like ants, trying to fix the problem. Searching for the intruder on their peace. I leaned on the edge. It had just now sunken in how badly I'd fucked up. Even if most of the Vaulties got into safety, there were still some that I'd failed.

Another few tallies on a long, long board.

I turned away, disgusted with my own reflection. I saw weakness. Idiocy. A child, thinking he can save the world through the power of love. I shook my head, pushing the thoughts out. I focused, placed a hand on my plasma pistol. I took a breath, and let it go.

The door opened, not of my accord, and I fired bolt after bolt at the soldier. He dropped, a steaming pile of plasma. I stepped over his body, and walked towards the stairs.

I quickly made my way down, and that's when I first heard the fighting. 10mm's and plasma fire being exchanged. I hurried my pace, almost running down. I found the floor that I could get into the sub levels. It's where Harkin had corned himself. I pressed the door's button, and just inside of it, a Vault security guard stood.

Or atleast, he did, until he fell forward into my arms. I saw the plasma steaming off of his back. It had burned clean through the flimsy material. I lifted him slightly. It was Officer Taylor. Out of all the guards down here, he was probably the kindest. If he thought you made an honest mistake, he didn't report you, so long as it didn't happen again.

He would disobey orders for the right reason. And he was now dead. Just a casualty. One in a million.

Now, normally, this wouldn't send me over the edge. I'd be angry, sad, but I wouldn't snap. But after all of this. Losing my girlfriend, my best friend, and the closest thing I had to a father after mine died, I think I'm well overdue to snap.

I tossed him aside, and unholstered my pistol. I bolted the two soldiers, and they panicked as I charged in a walk. They tried to shoot me, to no avail. They were each hit at least twice. Once my sidearm ran out, I simply tossed it. No point.

I rolled forward, dodging a bolt. I sprang up, right next to the two soldeirs. One of them backed away into the next hall, the other had no room to move at all. I pulled my knife from my boot, and kneed him behind his leg. He dropped like a stone, landing on his hands. He tried to get up again, but I was too fast.

I raised my knife, thought of Fawkes, and buried the blade deep into the back of the trooper's neck. I felt him spasm, flinch. But he was dead. Blood welled up at the wound, and I heard him gurgle and groan. He began to lean forward, losing consciousness. He dropped down, and I removed my knife from his neck.

I scooped up his plasma rifle, and beared down its sights at the next trooper. But he was ready. I felt a bolt slam into my unwounded side, the one without the knife wound. The force of it staggered me, but not enough to save him. I willed myself to get him again, and once I had him, I squeezed the trigger.

One bolt. He stepped back. Two. He reached out for support, and found none. Three. He was on the floor, clutching at his chest. I stepped over, ignoring the heat. One-handedly, I took aim at his face. I heard him say something.

I fired one last bolt, ending him.

I think he asked for mercy. I did give him it.

O

The next pair I saw was laying suppressing fire down on someone. I didn't wait for an invitation. I once again kicked his leg out, grabbed the first one by the helmet, leaning him back. I heard him yell in terror, his voice processor distorting it some. I felt him struggle against me. But Power Armor doesn't allow for too much mobility. He could hardly touch me. So he tried to reach for his friend. For help. As if anyone could save him. I smiled.

I sunk my blade into his face, clearing the metal. My fury fueled my strength. I felt him stop trying to resist instantly. His arms went flat, his legs gave way. I pushed him behind me, and the other had only begun to turn.

I pushed his rifle out of the way, and he fired two bolts into the lights. They sparked out of existence, leaving him alone with me. I twisted the knife around, so that it faced outwards. I sunk it into the soft part of his stomach's side, where it was unarmored for movement. He slacked, but still could stand. I let go of his arm, and his rifle hit the floor, clattering.

I sidestepped, and he dropped to his knees. He looked up at me, almost pitifully. "Who's the real monster here?" He seemed to ask. I simply stared him down until he finally fell down.

I removed my knife from him, and cleaned it against my coat. I wasn't going to wear it anymore after this.

"You can come out now." I called. "It's safe."

A head rose from the overturned table, cautiously, to see if I was lying. As it noticed the corpses of its attackers, she, as it turned out, climbed up. She stood, and recognized me.

"Al? Is that...is that you?"

"Yeah, it is. Now get out of here. Dangerous around here." I ordered, thumbing the door to a room. She thanked me, and unsteadily walked in. She gave me a small wave goodbye and a smile. I thought nothing of it, and made my way to the stairs for the sub-level.

I slid down like a shadow, the boots hardly making a noise. Or, that may have been my blood pumping so loud in my head. Either way, _I_ heard nothing. I saw two guards, both aimed at me. Ok, so I made more noise than I thought. I pulled off the plasma rifle, and shot a round down.

They took cover, and waited. Neither of us was stupid enough to take the first move. But only one of us had grenades.

And that wasn't me.

"Fire in the hole!" I heard one Enclave member yell, and a plasma grenade rolled out towards me. _Beep,beep,beep_. I looked at it. They hadn't cooked it. I simply kicked it back towards them, casual as a tin can. They saw their mistake, and screamed. Just before it was cut off by their vocal cords turning to goo.

After the blast dissapated, I walked through. Both piles, both dead. I chuckled. For the "Future of America" these guys weren't too bright. I made my way down the corridor, watching out. My rifle ready, I checked the charge. Only a few shots left. I took the risk to reload, hoping that no one would find me.

Hoping gets you nowhere.

A Hellfire soldeir turned the corner, incinerator in hand. He lifted it up, in the middle of my reload. I dropped the stupid thing, and held out my hand to block the ball of Hell. It hit directly, my clothes caught, and I retreated, stripping them off me. I checked my hand, scared. It came up bones.

My heart sank. I felt cold. For a second, my brain simply flickered in place. Fear shot through me, but then my eyes stopped tricking me. The bones were metal. It was simply my cyborganic hand.

But the metal, once a silvery steel, was now black. It always had pointy ends at the tips, but now, with their charred color, they looked far more sinister. Even the knuckle guards to ensure it didn't bend backwards made it look all the more evil and dangerous.

I stared at it for a moment more, then clenched my fist. Despite my body being damaged and charred, beaten and brusied, I will still fight.

My brow furrowed, my teeth clenched in determination. I stripped off the jacket, and retrieved my .44 from the pocket. I lifted myself upwards, growling in fury. I turned the corner, popped a shot into his helmet. It didn't pierce it, but he did flinch backwards. In the fee seconds that he was recoiling from my shot, I popped off two more. They hit his torso, withing an inch of one another. I marched forward.

He got his balance, and took aim again. He saw how close I was, and dropped his incinerator. He reached for his own pistol, but I shot it in two before he could bring it to bear. Once I got close, I charged, throwing my whole weight into him. We tumbled to the floor, and I got my pistol beneath his chin.

Blood splattered against the wall.

I stood, brushing myself off. I empited the cylinder, put fresh rounds in. I calmly stepped over my last victim, and took pause at the door to the Vault's main reactor. I looked at the frame. Just behind here. I could feel it. In this next room, I was finally to finish my fight. I took a second to breath. Let the pain in my side and all the rest fade as I controlled my mind.

This past week has been the biggest fucking disaster of my entire life. I've failed countless times, let people die, let bad men like Harkin run amok, and all because I was so fucking soft. I didn't escape soon because I felt that Ananda could help change D.C. I had to check on Ashur because I couldn't steal his kid.

This is my greatest failure. And now, I get to partially atone for it.

I opened the door, stepped inside. My vision tunneled on Harkin. He was wearing his Hellfire armor. He must've known I was coming. He had his arms crossed over his chest, the lights shining off of him. He cocked his head, expecting me to talk first. My jaw was grinding in my mouth. We stood for an eternity, staring each other down. If he blinked, I didn't see it. I know I didn't blink.

"So, Sorenson. Just you and me." He smiled, finally cracking. "A plan for the ages, don't you think. You see, I've studied my enemies. From Brotherhood to Talon Company, I've watched and waited to strike. But Colonel Autumn and Eden? They were idiots. They underestimaed the sheltered Vaultie. They didn't think that some degenerate could possibly stand a chance.

"But they were wrong. You usurped them both. Killed the President in his own base, single-handedly. And then? You. Let. Autumn. Go." He pointed at me, smiling. "I'd love to see his face right now. Suprises at every turn from the young man. The Lone Wanderer. A hero by twenty. A legend by twenty-two.

"So I overestimated you. Yeah, that's right. I thought too much of you. Too much of the man that assassinated the President. Because all it took to keep you locked for six months? Some idealistic bitch who had a sob story. Hell, even less. Just some sacrificial lambs to make you think the ambush was over. All it took was a lead pipe.

"Back when I was a grunt, I usurped my own commander. I took command at every turn, proved my worth. I've done much more to truly help America then you have, and yet we're labeled as the bad guys. Why? We fight to protect this land, cleanse it of filth. You do the same. You kill raiders, super mutants, mercs, and ghouls, and you're labeled the Messiah. Why? We are going to save them all, and they resist!

"Sure, we do have to take extreme measures. But Be All Your Sins Remember'd. That little slaving bout you had? Or the Pitt? All those slaves...oh! Or the time that you murdered that entire town of Andale? Oh, but wait! You used the saving to infiltrate, and now the Pitt can possibly become something good. And Andale...well, you know it's bad when _incest_ isn't the dark secret. So you did those deeds for the greater good...How familiar.

"We both act for the good of all America. We're working for the same utopia. I want to save America, so do you. I'll fight for Americans, so do you. You fight evil. So do I. To protect and serve." He stopped pacing, and turned towards me as if he just figured out something profound. "Why not work together? Our recources with your public appeal? Peace to the Capitol Wasteland! Then the East Coast! Then all of America!

"So, now I'm guessing you'll give me your speech? Go ahead, I'm re-" I cut him off with a swift kick to the gut. He dropped to his knees, clutched his stomach. I heard him groan loudly.

"Here's my speech: Fuck you, and Fuck your Ultimatum. I don't fight for Old World, I fight for the New One. Right now, I'm just kickin' your ass."

He roared, and sprang up to me. We slammed into a wall, and he gave me a solid punch to me own stomach. And then another two for good luck. I shoved him off me, and slammed a boot into his chest. He went back, stumbling. I ran up, and before he could even see stars, my fist rocketed into his face.

He held it behind his helmet, and in doing so, covered his eyes. I took the moment to punch his sides a few times, and he blocked my fists. So then I took off his helmet for him. Then I beat him with it, holding it by the facepiece.

At first, I did it overhanded. Slamming it down with a little jump. Then I used both hands. He deflected that, so I uppercutted him with his own helmet. He stumbled back and fell, slamming down to the floor.

I went over to him, wanting to groundpound him. I lifted him up instead. He was to suffer for his offenses against me. I reared back my fist a second time, and launched it. With a single hand, he caught it. Suprise entered my face. He looked up, hating and cold. My other hand was on his armor, so I had no defense. His head leaned back, and slammed into my nose.

I retreated back, not be choice. My hand flew up to my nose. When I retirieved it, I found an amount of blood. I laughed dryly. "Good. I was thinking you were giving up on me." We smiled at each other, two deathclaws fighting for dominance. I watched him pull a knife. Our eyes narrowed, and he overhanded jabbed at me. I deflected, cathign his wrist.

He punched me, and tried to impale me again. It was almost to my neck before I caught it. We struggled for dominance, and I won out. I headbutted him in the forehead, and elbowed him. He fell back, and I tried to hit him again, but he spun me around, and choekheld me. I caught the blade by his wrist, and another struggle.

I flipped him over my shoudler, and stomped his gut. He released the blade, and I took it. He tried to slap it out of my hands, and I spun him around. We reversed roles, another challenge of strength.

This time, he won. He pushed my knife away, but I manged to spin him to the ground. I tired to slam it into him, but he caught it. I twisted the blade, and got it back. I was tired of this. It was getting nowhere. I jammed it into the metal, and kicked him away.

"What? Scared of cutting yourself?" He sneered.

I glared. "Naw. I just want to strangle you with my own hands."

We charged at each other. He ducked down, and wrapped his arms around me. He lifted me with some effort, then slammed me down to the ground. He pounded my chest with his fist, nose diving it from high in the air. I rolled away from him, and as I rose to my feet, I found he was faster.

He socked me good in my face, and I went to the wall. I tried pushing against back from it, to regain my balance, but he grabbed hold of me before I could recover. We spun, and he tossed me headfirst into the wall. I groaned in pain, my fision fading a little. Adrenaline blocked most of my pain, so if any did get through, it had to be serious.

He held the back of my neck, and punched my already sore side over and over, full force. Pain flared up again, and I yelled. He smiled, knowing where to hit for maximum effect. I retaliated by kicking his leg out, and he faltered to the flor on one knee. I hooked his head with my elbow, and pulled him to the floor. I curb-stomped onto his back, and he grunted. I managed to get a few more off before he slipped away.

He skittered to his feet, and when he turned, I was on his ass. I sent a flurry of jabs to his torso. They didn't do much because of his armor, but natural human reaction is to cover the area. He did. I smiled in savagery. I took this oppurtnity to wail on his head, sending at least seven strong hits to his skull.

Then he broke off, pushing me back. He popped his neck to the sides, and came after me for revenge. I jabbed at his face again, for him to flinch, but to no avail. He simply grabbed that arm, hoisted me onto hsi shoulder, and tossed me over his back. I hit the floor hard. We both yelled. I almost felt my spine dislocate.

He picked me up, gave me another headbutt and knee to the gut. I stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. This time, he wouldn't get me. I used the added mobility not wearing armor gave me, and roundhouse kicked him away from me. He groaned in pain, gritting his teeth.

"Resorting to kicking?" He quipped.

"Your in power armor." He nodded to the side, and charged me. This time, niether of us had the advantage. We traded blows, match for match, for a minute or two. I saw a weak point, and on the latter half of a punch, elbowed his face, gaining two hits. He yelled in pain. This opened him up, and I tackled him into the wall.

He tried to gain a handhold on me , but to no use. I had him. I threw him forcefully to the side, and while he was standing himself up, I raced towards him fist ready. I jumped, and used the momentum and height to slam my fist into him. He dropped again, and I grabbed his shoudlers and pulled my weight back. I kneed his forehead, and he flew back, landing on his front.

He groaned for a moment. Fight's over. Or, at least it almost was. That groan grew into a roar, and he wheeled around and picked me right up off the ground and slammed me into the wall. He leaned back and did it again. We each grunted in pain and effort. He was getting desperate. And if the blood from my nose and side, along with my vision fading, told me anything, it was that I couldn't take much more punishment.

I was going to have to fight dirty.

So I grabbed hold of his mug, and tried to aim my sharp, blackened robotic thumb into his. I managed to get it, and he dropped me, screaming in agony. But I didn't drop him. No, I held on, blinding him, blood pouring from the soon-to-be empty socket. We both scream, mine just beginning, his about to end. The same could be said of our lives.

My strength finally gave, and I dropped him. Blood and aqeuos fluid dripped off of my thumb. He held his eyes for a moment, but let his other eye free to look at me, in all his cold hatred.

"Look! Look at what you've done to me!" He seethed, his breath heavy, his chest heaving in pain. "You bastard! You fucking cruel _bastard_!"

"Quit whining. You won't be bothered by it for long."

"Oh, of _course_!" He yelled in false epiphany. "Because the soul-crushing guilt will hit me! Oh no!" He then yelled in agony again, the sarcasm draining. "Because I know what you you did to Autumn. He's a wreck now! A weepy, soul-searchy _wreck_! And if you think that's what'll happen to me, you're wrong, _you're fucking wrong_, you hear me?

"That preachy shit you do about love is worthless to me! And to everyone else! The only reason it works, _no_, people even _tolerate_ your stupid evangalism is because you keep everyone safe! I'm not the one you should be fighting! It's the mutants out there who kill, rape, and eat!

"But you won't kill me. You'll try and give me some token lines about human goodness or love or rainbows or fuzzy shit. Go ahead. I'm all ears." He looked at me, smiling. He had me figured out to the A. He had studied me. Watched how I act. And for the last five years, I've always shown mercy. Given a second chance. Forgiven.

I kicked him to the floor, planted my boot on his neck. His eye opened in shock and suprise. I stepped off, leaning over him. I began to beat him, punching his face over and over. And all the while, I had the calmest, most tranquil expression. But inside, all the fury of my heart was being channeled into my fists.

I stopped just short of killing him. I erected myself. He took in a few gurgling breaths. I stopped those with my boot. He tried to clutch my shoe, but he hadn't the strength. He choked on his own blood, and just before he left, I let up. He gasped, thankful to his diety for sparing him.

No God could save him from me.

"No. I'm not going to give you a speech. Want to know why?" I asked rhetorically. "Because for all my years in this fuckhole, every man and woman I've had to kill, never gave me a real reason not to try and redeem them. I could atleast pretend they'd do something worthwhile.

"That kept me strong. Believing in truth and justice and love. They helped me through the hard years, and emboldened me during the easy ones. I felt that so long as I believed, it would turn out okay in the end. Mostly, it did. But you want to know why I'm not sparing you?

"Because you have stolen so much from me. A father figure, my best friend, my girlfriend, and six months of my life. Even my own sanity, for a while, you held that. You even justify yourself into it, even though everything around you counts as war crimes before the bombs.

"They say that the worst evil is a broken hero. Why? Because when they break, all that drive to do good is gone. They still have the potential, but nowhere to spend it. SO they turn to evil. That guy who gave water to a beggar? He'll be a Raider Warlord if he goes bad.

"But I do have to congragulate you though. You managed to do something that years of heartbreak and pain couldn't.

"You broke me." I said, finally. "So now, there's no filter. No mercy. No quarter. No compassion." Something in me snapped. He broke me right there. So now, the poor little Vaultie must hide in the back corner of the brain. Now, they other side of the hero comes out.

This side is unfettered. He has no regard for others, dictates all hsi actions for the greater good, and never shows mercy. The one who replaced the broken now is in control of the body.

Now, the Lone Wanderer gets to play.

The Lone Wanderer pressed his massive boot back down on Harkin's neck. The Enclave soldier sputtered blood in an attempt to breathe. But no use. Now, the Wanderer is the judge.

He spoke in a cold, flat tone. "You made this monster." He lifted up his black, metal hand. "In both ways, physically and emotionally. And now, the monster will be allowed to reciprocate the love his creator made him with." He pressed down even harder.

They said that you could hear Harkin's screams from the atrium.

O

The Lone Wanderer stood victorious above hsi nemesis. He roared in victory, the deathclaw gaining his dominion. Once the roar ceased, the Wanderer noticed a clicking. He glanced at his wrist, found that radiation had been seeping in. Harkin had made a gambit. Even if he died, it'd just be a decoy.

If the living now stayed any longer, he'd join his adversary.

He stumbled out of the room, falling against the door panel. It slid open, and the Wanderer slumped over other Paladins, who had arrived on orders to try and support their superior. The larger man passed out right there, and the Paladins dragged him away from the bloody room.

Inside of that bloody room, two men died, and one was born. One, a fanatical soldeir. The second, a paragon of justice and benevolence. But the third was a mix of the two. Fanatical in the sense of justice, as he must hunt down the criminal. But benevolent in the sense that the second man's beliefs remained, albeit less strongly.

The Lone Wanderer exited that crucible a stronger man. The other two were not weak. But one of their minds were. And that's all it took for the Lone Wanderer to take the throne.

O

Alright guys, there'll be on more chapter, just an epilogue to wrap things up. I used so many sources in that fight scene, it wasn't even funny.


	19. A New Man Will Rise

Alright, people, last chapter. This'll wrap things up. And I purposefully switched from first to third person in the least scene. If you can tell me why, go back to the "Endless thanks" chapter, and submit a Charachter. They'll be top on the list for their chapter.

O

In a rusted metal shack, in the lowest pit of Megaton, lay the Lone Wanderer. The man was not awake, his wounds, numerous and severe, forcing him to shut down, especially after the abuse it had taken.

A knife in the side, then bandaged and still healing, torn multiple times in fights. Broken bones, only mended from stimpacks, and bruised ones were the majority of the man's skeletal system. Plasma and regular burns scorched some of his shoulder and arm, and half of his torso was blak and blue from the fist fight with a power-armored soldier, and a mind-controlled meta-human.

The doctor presiding over him was suprised that the Lone Wanderer wasn't dead, or could even have still walked, much less fought and defeated the last Remnant of the Eastern Enclave.

But the wounds there were not the only ones. In his mind, a new force was present. The old one, the man that cared and loved the Wasteland, for all of its flaws and evils, always thought its people worth fighting and dying for. That one would push himself to the extreme limits to save the most people, at the cost of himself. If he saw a man in danger, he would save him, and then try to forgive the man who tried to kill the first.

This new force was much less kind. It still cared for the people, but in a lesser manner. This one was a much harder person than the last. If he ever thought of mercy, then it would be mercy from a longer, more painful death. If he judged you more trouble than you were worth, he'd kill you without a hint of remorse. This man would see a man in danger, judge if he was worth saving, would make a difference, and then make his decision.

But none of that mattered as the Lone Wanderer was still asleep, recovering from his battle with Harkin. But not for long.

O

Elder Sarah Lyons rubbed the back of her neck. She was split down the middle. She could either forgive the Enclave turncoats, or order them executed. She was a afraid of this. She had at least hoped that the first major decision as Elder wouldn't be this controversial. If she did let them join, or at least spare them, the troops who held grudges may abandon her. If she executed them, then she would lose a valauable force, both engineers, scientists, and soldiers.

She had gone to many for a advice. But all that she interviewed knew nothing. But they did point her to a few people. One of which was her father, but seeing as she is the Elder, there is no gain in trying to do that.

The other were old advisors. Rothchild she managed to find on the radio. Tristan was there, as was Cross. All of her top lieutenants were present, minus one. And she had turned to them all, minus one.

She was interuppted from her ponderings by the sound of an opening door. She glared at its intrusion, and her gaze did not soften as she saw who it was. Hank Erston, he had introduced himself. He was stripped of his armor, and wearing a loose-fitting Vault Jumpsuit. He looked uncomfortable, exposed. And for good reason. The Brotherhood demanded that they relinquish their arms upon their surrender.

"Have you come to a decision?" He asked politely, not wanting to influence his life with a rash tone.

"No, I haven't. Is there anything else you want, or can I get back to it?" She asked harshly. It was a lot of stress for her, but nothing that Erston wasn't used to. Harkin was prone to fits as well, but he had as much stress as the Elder has.

"Of course, ma'am." He replied, then exited swiftly, not wanting to incur her wrath. He sighed as he walked down the halls. He constantly hoped he had made the right choice in convincing the rest of the Enclave. They were stuck now, unarmed, at the mercy of an organization that had hunted them down to their last legs, had continually countered their tech with their own scavenged junk, and when the Enclave outfirepowered them with the Mobile Base, the Brotherhood simply unleashed the Lone Wanderer, who swiftly used the base against itself.

Hell, sinking with Harkin almost sounded like a vacation when compared to having the Brotherhood's guillotine resting above them.

O

The Lone Wanderer groaned, pain being the first sensation to penetrate his murky mind. His eyes, after being blinded by the shearing light in his face, focused on his environment. Small shack, sheet metal. IV drip above him, with a privacy curtain. Smell of...sweat, drugs, and alcohol.

Doc's office, Megaton. He tried to list an arm to part the curtain, but he found that he was too sore to move. His arm simply limped up and dropped, the tight and bruised muscle needing time to heal. He tried again, biting against the pain, but to no real avail. While his mind was sharp, determined, and ready for battle, his body could only function at that level for so long. And it was well past tat threshold.

Another hand parted the cloth, revealing the scowl of the doctor. He didn't look pleased to see his patient up, but on that account, he never looked pleased for anything. A truck of stims could roll at his feet and his mouth would only say "Well there's no damn Med-X here."

"Have a nice nap?" He snarked at the Lone Wanderer. The Wanderer didn't appreciate the attitude. If it wasn't for his actions, this place could've been a radioactive puddle.

"Go to Hell." He said blunlty. "Where's Hollow and Amata? How did I get here?"

"They dragged you here, obviously. Not like there's teleporting tech out there. And they're having a meal together. Sitting here, breathing my air, and wasting my space can really work up an appetite. You should know."

Some part of the Wanderer wanted to strangle him. Another wanted to give some snark right back at his mug.

"Fine. Tell them I'm awake."

He threw his hands up. "What am I, your servant boy? I worked for like three hours on patching you up yesterday, and you expect me to just waltz outside and do you a favor?"

"Fine. Sit on your ass all day. Be a lazy prick." He spat in disgust, his gray eyes piercing the doctor's facade. The Wanderer didn't have nearly as much of actual medical training, just combat first aid, but he knew that a doctor's first priority is to heal the patient, and the second is to reassure the loved ones.

He put up his hands in surrender, backing down. "Fine, I'll tell 'em. Sheesh. No need to be an ass about it."

"From the lip I was getting from you, it apparently was." He finished as the doctor was evicted from his office. The Lone Wanderer only let his head back down after he heard the door close. He panted, the strain of even lifting his head left his neck aching. He tested the rest of him, while he had the chance. He started small, hands and feet. He flexed them, slowly. Only some pain. That was good.

The then tried to lift his knees, bring up his legs. But it had the same issue as his arms. Too sore and injured to move. He sighed again, and already knew his arms were useless. He tried to shift his back, twisting, arching, anything. All met with sitffness or pain outright.

He felt a hint of despair. Every moment that he wasted on this was one more moment that some plot could be coming to fruition. He couldn't let injuries, or anything else, even kindness, friends, even love get in the way of making sure that the evil do not harm the good or innocent.

Just as he finished checking his body, the door creaked open. He tensed, looking for his pistol. His equipment was piled neatly on the shelf. The revolver, knife, and fresh (if you can consider anything in the Capitol Wasteland "fresh") clothes sat on it, waiting for him.

He'd have no chance to reach it. But he didn't need to, as Amata then Hollow entered the office. Amata went to hug the prone warrior, but held herself back. She'd just injure him more if she did. Hollow held himself aloof. Only a slight lean told of his pleasure with seeing his friend awake and alive.

"How long have I been out?" He questioned before they asked him if he was alright.

"Only a day. We're suprised that you're awake right now."

"I've heard. What happened with the Vault?"

"Oh. Well, when the Brotherhood got in, most of the Enclave...surrendered. Just put down their guns and gave up. One of the top guys, Hershel or something, told Sarah that they were willing to surreneder and assimilate into the Brotherhood. We still don't know what she'll choose."

"I see. Interesting." He said, entering into thought.

"Yeah..." Amata said, confused. "So...are you alright?"

He looked back at her. "I'm fine."

"You just seem...off. Like...not you." SHe'd never seen her friend like this. Normally, his humor would've shone through, or at least he'd be happier to be done with the fight. But he jsut seemed...cold.

"I'm fine. Just thinking. Thank you for your concern." He said flatly, and turned toward the window, ending the conversation. Amata was about to reassure her thoughts on his trauma, but Hollow pulled her away. Once they were outside, he scibbled on his board.

_He gets like this at times. Just let him sort himself out._

"But he's...he's still only human." Hollow circled the second sentence. "Fine, fine. I guess...we'll just...have to wait." He put a hand on the small of her back, and let her out, back to their table.

Once they sat down, Amata let her head drop. "God..." She whispered. "Did you see his eyes?"

O

After another day, the Lone Wanderer was stable enough to leave. But, on the "good" doctor's orders, he would spend another week, at minimum, resting. After all that man's been through, he should be taking a month's vacation. It still didn't mean he could move too much either. Stairs were Hell, so he had to pick a level of the house to stay on.

He chose upstairs. Comfy chair, bed, books, and booze. But no food. So that meant that Wadsworth was going to have to learn how to handle a plate. He chuckeld as the mental image of the robot balancing the plate on two arms.

Just as well, if there was a raid on Megaton, he'd have both the homfield and uphill advantage. Despite being ordered to rest, he'd still think pragmatically. It was the man he was now. So he sat there, drinking from a bottle of water, looking over his equipment. The Blackhawke was in rough shape. After months of disuse, and then heavy action without cleaning, it was probably at about half of its condition.

The Plasma rifle he found wasn't in perfect condition, being an Enclave weapon, but because of that origin, it was better than what it would've been if he'd just found it in some pre-war armory. Good, but not great.

His shotgun was in about the same shape as his revolver. But what had to be the worst was the armor. Both it and the Lone Wanderer had taken horrible punishment throughout this fight. They'd been through blunt force trauma, plasma burns, ammo of all sorts, and the damage had shown. Holes in the sides, blood stains, some armor had even burned off.

He sighed as he looked at it. It was almost totally destroyed. They both were. The pragmatic thing to do would be to throw it away, or salvage it for another suit. Just as he was to put it to the side, somethign tugged at him. He looked at it once more, and he simply couldn't part with it.

The armor, the memories, and the man that the green pre-war gear had protected still held some grip on the Lone Wanderer. And that man was still inside of the psyche of the Lone Wanderer, just damaged, needed to be repaired. But the armor would be much simpler than the man. The man was broken in a different way.

When Harkin revelaed how he counted on Al's mercy to win, on the fettered side of him, after all the anger and hatred towards the man who forced him to kill his best friend, who stole half a year from his life, after forgetting who he was...Al simply broke. Because even after all of that pain, that suffering, Al could've shown mercy. Even if it was a swift death, if he was regretful, maybe even life. But to see that someone had planned to use his mercy for a selfish purpose...

It was unnacceptable.

But he could still be fixed though. Niether one was sure exactly how, but it could happen. And the broken one hoped. The new one had no care for whatever outcome. It had one goal to achieve. The Greater Good. And he would achieve it.

O

The Vault was finally in order, and Sarah could head home with her men. Even the new Enclave turncoats. But she sent them back first, she wanted to visit an old flame. She made it as far as the front door when she was stopped by the Overseer.

"Sa-...Elder Lyons!" Amata shouted at her. In warning. Sarah turned towards her.

"Amata. Good to see you." It was uncomfortable, even after all this time.

"Don't go to see Al. Not yet." Sarah glared at her.

"Why the Hell not?" She demanded.

"He's...not the same. He's...colder." The Hispanic girl explained. "Something had to happen after Harkin. It's just...he's more driven. He's not smiling, he's not laughing."

Sarah crossed her arms. She looked down, thinking. The only reason she'd given the Enclave a second chance is because that's what her father would have done. And what her father would've done is go to Al for advice. He would tell him to show mercy. So in an indirect way, Al was responsible for the Enclave men's survival. He deserved to know that.

"I'm going in." She spoke in her decision. She turned and entered Al's home. She called for him, looked about. She heard a muffled voice come from upstairs. She followed it, ignoring Dogmeat along the way. She saw him reading a book on Medecine. The D.C. Journal.

"Hey...how are you?" She asked cautiously.

The response was flat, dead. "Fine."

"Alright..." She chose to stop pussyfooting around. She began to speak, but was cut off.

"Are you here for a reason?"

She frowned. "Yeah. I just wanted to tell you that Gary and I are-"

"I don't want to hear about your boyfriend." He cut her off again. Blue eyes met cold, stone grey ones. "Look, if you're going to waste my time, then leave. I have to tie up some loose ends." He stayed silent for a moment. He sighed. Something pulled on him to apologize and give her hope. He obliged to one. "Just...give me some time. Ok?"

She was angry at his insolence. But she still cared too much to snap at him. So she nodded, turned back. Maybe in a few months, he'd be ready. But until then, she could wait.

"Hold on a moment!" He stopped her. She felt something in her chest rise. As she turned, he held out his holotags. For her to take. She looked at them, darkness and gloom in her eyes.

"I can't take these. They're yours." She said, straining her voice. She could hardly believe it. He'd just come back from the grave, and now he was cutting her off?

"Yes you can. I'm quitting." He said with finality. He jiggled the tags in his hands. She reached out, and took them. Sarah gripped them tightly in her fist, and dropped them on the desk.

"I can, yeah. But I'm not going to. I still want you..." She trailed off, but quickly realized how that sounded. "To be...a part of the Brotherhood of Steel. We need you." A moment passed. "I..._I need you."_

The Lone Wanderer looked at the tags. A wave of something passed over him. Nostalgia? Love? Pride? Guilt? Whatever it was, it swayed his decision. He pulled them over to him, held them tenderly in his hand.

She spoke up, smiling a small smile in victory. "Just...at least something to...remember me by?"

He looked up, blue eyes met cold, stone grey ones. Torn between the Wanderer and the Vaultie. The Vaultie won. "Yeah. Something to remember you by."

O

Alright, finally. I'm done with this. I know that this is a bit of a cliffhanger, but that's purposeful. Remember to read the "Endless Thanks" chapter to see if you have a characther to write, and anyone can make a char, I'll read over all of them.

Please review, tell me what I did right, wrong, in between. Keep in tune for our next adventure, so check around my profile for another story you may want to read.


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